Reunion: Old Friends, Older Enemies
by animexchick
Summary: The surprise returned of a dear friend from one of the boy's past brings with it a whole load of trouble and danger. - Expect lots of H/C and some Romance :) (sucky summary but please read anyways)
1. Running

**Hi guys and welcome to my new story**

**To all those who've read my other fic's welcome back and to all those who haven't hi :)**

**I'm really excited about this story and have loads of ideas for it so I really hope you'll like it too.**

**I have lots of H/C moments lined up so those of you who like that, don't worry there will be plenty in this fic.**

**Follow/Favourite/Review **

**Enjoy **

**xxx**

**DISCLAIMER: Unfortunately I do not own the Musketeers, just the OC **

* * *

**Chapter One: Running**

Faster!

That was the only thought racing through the head the small figure sprinting down the early Parisian streets.

Knowing they didn't have any time to spare, that they could very well already be too late, the figure ran like a bat out of hell, with one singular destination in mind. The Musketeer garrison.

* * *

Early mornings did not suit Athos. The musketeer was known to rely on drink in an attempt to bury memories from his past from raising their heads and haunting his sleep, though he would usually keep it within a limit if he knew, like today, that he would be required at the palace in the early morning hours.

Unfortunately for the now hung-over musketeer the previous day had been the anniversary of a particularly painful memory, causing the need to indulge more than usual.

Cursing the King's desire to have an early morning hunt, the musketeer proceeded to dunk his head into the bucket of ice cold water that he always made sure was available to him in the mornings, the coolness of the water aiding in helping his body sober up.

Once he had dried his wet hair and dressed appropriately Athos picked up his weapons and exited his rooms.

Cursing again – though this time because of the glare of the early morning sun that seemed extra bright today just to spite him. Athos headed down to the table he and his brothers always commandeered, deciding that he might be able to appease the thundering hangover if he supplied it with breakfast.

Noticing the distinct lack of his brother's presence at the table it took everything in the barely awake and terribly hung-over musketeer not to groan. He swore that if either Aramis or D'Artangan were late **again **because of their attention being drawn by members of the fairer sex he would have them sparring until they could barely stand, let alone pursue the objects of their affection.

* * *

Swearing quietly in a string of different languages as their path was once again cut off by a merchant and his wagon heading towards the market square to get set up for another working day the cloaked figure skirted around the potbellied man and his cart, choosing to use the back streets in an attempt to regain time.

Fatigue was beginning to close in but the figure refused to give in or to stop, knowing full well that stopping could mean death for the one person in this world they would give or do anything for.

Why did the Musketeer's garrison have to be located on the furthest side of the city to the entrance they had arrived at!

Infinitely glad to find that nothing substantial had changed streetwise in the two years they had been away from Paris the figure picked up speed.

* * *

Bending to pick up his hat that had fallen from its place on his head as he had made his early morning escape Aramis couldn't help but grin. The beautiful Madame he had spent the night with had left him infinitely satisfied - the oaf said Madame was married to had returned earlier than expected but the man made enough noise entering his house that he could easily rouse half of France so the charismatic marksman had sufficient warning to dress and escape via the woman's window before her husband was any the wiser to his presence.

The adrenaline from his jump from the window had the musketeer antsy to do something, anything. Deciding he would risk being slightly late – and as such Athos's anger, and detour to his rooms to change before heading to the garrison, figuring that the run would help drain the adrenaline that would be little use to him as he spent the morning watching the King attempt to hunt.

Arriving at the garrison in record time Aramis wasn't surprised to see Athos already at their table. He was surprised however at the state of his friend, obviously the alcohol had been a more demanding companion the previous night than it usually was.

Reaching into his satchel for the powder he always kept on him, Aramis poured the bottle's contents into a glass of water before approaching the table and sliding said glass under his brother's nose and sending the musketeer a knowing look when he raised his head from his breakfast to look at him.

Receiving a grateful smile from his friend Aramis stretched his long body before leaving the table briefly in search of his own breakfast, he'd worked up an appetite last night and knowing the King, they wouldn't be able to eat for several hours once the hunt started so best to be full before heading out.

* * *

Almost collapsing in relief when the garrison's watchtowers came into view the figure ran on.

They were still some distance from the garrison itself – the watchtowers being tall enough to be seen from a decent distance. But the figure was undeterred – the simple fact that the towers could be seen meant that they were on the right path and would reach the garrison soon.

Gasping for breath as their foot got caught in an uneven patch of ground the figure threw their arms out in a desperate attempt to keep their balance.

Smirking slightly in pride as they managed to remain upright, the figure went to continue their run only to wince in pain as they put pressure on the foot that had been caught, causing their almost fall.

Growling out another string of curses the figure steeled themself for the pain before starting to run again. The pain in their foot growing with every step the figure pushed on, they would not be detained by pain, not when his life was at stake.

* * *

Swearing blindly for his foolishness for getting distracted D'Artangan rushed to the garrison, knowing full well what Athos would do to him if he were late…**again**

The young musketeer in training had agreed, after an almost terrible incident with Aramis's old friend Marsac, to train Constance to shoot and wield a sword.

Not that it had taken much convincing from the young redhead, she had D'Artangan wrapped nice and tight around her little finger – although she didn't seem to realize that quite yet.

So the young pair had spent their morning in a secluded grove outside the city practicing how to handle and shoot a pistol.

Smiling like a loon when he remembered the feel of Constance pressed up against him when she hugged him after making her first shot, D'Artangan mentally slapped himself. Now was definitely not the time to be thinking of that, plus she was unfortunately married. Clutching the hilt of his sword to stop it from bashing too much against his leg as he raced to arrive at the garrison on time D'Artangan worked on forcing the still present smile from his face.

Arriving at the garrison the Gascon couldn't contain his grin when he noticed two of his brothers sitting at their table eating breakfast. D'Artangan sighed in relief – if they were still casually eating then he couldn't possibly be late and so was safe from whatever hellish punishment Athos would have undoubtedly forced upon him.

* * *

There!

The gates of the garrison became visible and the exhausted figure couldn't contain the smile that spread across their face. Now if only they had made it in time then all would be right with the world and the cloaked figure could finally relax.

Running into the garrison's courtyard the figure could feel the inquisitive stare upon itself but before anyone could do or say anything exhaustion finally overwhelmed the small figure as it collapsed onto its knees.

Forcing the fog of fatigue from their mind the figure remembered exactly why they had raced through the city in the first place and, with an incredibly large amount of panic in their voice yelled "Porthos! Please I need to speak to Porthos Du Vallion!"


	2. Panicking

**Evening My Lovelies :)**

**Loving that I was able to get 11 followers for just the first chapters and I really hope you'll all enjoy this next chapter.**

**Should have said before but the story's set some time after Homecoming but Before Challenge (so Charon's dead and D'Artangan's not yet a musketeer) **

**Much love to those who follow/favourite/review **

**Enjoy**

**xxx**

* * *

**Chapter Two: Panicking  
**

Aramis's keen vision had spotted the approaching figure before anyone else and his brows furrowed in concern. His medic training quickly picked up on the figures obvious exhaustion and by way they were running they were obviously injured in some way.

The medic had risen from his seat when he saw the figure enter the garrison, it was clear whoever this was, was in need of help or at the very least some medical attention and it was not within him to neglect a person in pain.

He knew his brothers were as confused by this stranger who had entered the garrison as he was but any questions were halted when the figure collapsed onto their knees. Instinctively moving to help the wounded person Aramis froze on the spot when the figure called out name of one of the men he called brother.

"Porthos! Please I need to speak to Porthos Du Vallion!"

* * *

To say the men were surprised to find out that the figure was actually a woman, her gender becoming obvious as soon as she spoke, would be an understatement – they had all seem the flash of weapons attached to her hips, hidden underneath the cloak she was wearing and so all assumed it was a young man – women carrying weapons was something not seen often, if at all.

"How do you know Porthos mademoiselle?" Aramis enquired, approaching the woman slowly, as if afraid he might startle her. He had heard the sheer panic in her voice when she called out and he willed his heart to maintain a normal beat, at least until he had all the facts.

Comforted by the presence of his brother's behind him, the medic continued his approach to the woman, who was now studying him with a look of pure confusion, until a flash of recognition appeared in her eyes – startling the medic immensely.

"You're Aramis right? Porthos's friend?" the hope and panic in her voice set all three men on edge.

Receiving a nod from the medic – who was too confused that this woman knew his name and relationship with Porthos to formulate a vocal response, smiling brightly at the fact she had found someone who would echo her desire to protect the large musketeer the young woman forced herself to stand. Only to collapse again within seconds, although she had a much softer landing this time as the medic's quick reflexes had allowed him to catch her and lower he back to the ground before she fell to her knees again.

Gripping his arm so tight Aramis couldn't contain a small wince as her nails dug into his skin, the young woman turned her panicked eyes onto the three men she now recognized from Porthos's stories "Were is he? Please he's in danger! I have to warn him, they're going to kill him!"

That single piece of information was all it took to turn the men's blood cold.

Steeling his emotions Athos turned to the medic "bring her to my rooms, this isn't the sort of conversation to be had out in the open. I'll get Treville and she can tell us what this is all about and who is after Porthos"

Nodding at the now retreating musketeer the medic turned to D'Artangan who looked very much like he wanted to shake the answers out of the young girl in his arms, he couldn't help the fondness he felt for that. "D'Art run to the infirmary and grab some bandages will you I doubt Athos has any and I need to see to her ankle." Pleased to be doing something D'Artangan sprinted off to get the bandages.

"I'm fine please don't waste time on me when he's in trouble" the young girl implored and Aramis felt his intrigue for this small woman grow as her desire to warn and protect Porthos overruled her own pain and exhaustion.

"I can see to it while you explain what's going on" Aramis said with a calm he didn't feel as they entered Athos's rooms "If Porthos cares for you half as much as you seem to care for him then he would not want to see you hurt" he finished, placing the girl on Athos's bed, eyebrows raising slightly when a small blush appeared on her cheeks when he mentioned Porthos caring for her.

"So how do you know about me?" he inquired, more to distract the woman as he assessed the damage done to the ankle

"Porthos told me" the woman responded, in a tone that said that it should have been obvious, though it was slightly ruined by a hiss of pain as he examined her foot.

"Just sprained I think, I'll bandage it when D'Artangan gets back and you'll have to avoid putting pressure on it for a couple of weeks" Aramis concluded, smiling at the good timing of their youngest as he then entered the room, armed with bandages and followed by Athos and a very stern looking Captain Treville.

"So who are you?" Treville asked gruffly, he needed to know if there was a genuine threat on one of his best men and he needed to know just who came bearing news of such a threat.

"Christelle… but that's not important. Where is Porthos?" she exclaimed, she couldn't believe they were wasting time asking who she was when Porthos was in danger.

"He's on assignment… Now-"

"On his own?" Christelle questioned, her panic reaching new heights as the Captain simply nodded – a little stunned that the tiny girl in front of him had the audacity to interrupt him in his own garrison.

"No no no no! That's the perfect opportunity for them to grab him" forcing back pain and exhaustion the girl pushed herself to her feet "I have to find him"

"Explain what you know, quickly" Athos ordered the girl, who was being pushed back into bed by D'Artangan and Aramis; if his brother was indeed in trouble they needed to find him now.

"Heard some rumors, couple of weeks back about getting revenge on a musketeer" Christelle started, glad someone was finally paying attention to the importance of her information "musketeer's are Porthos's family now so I figured I'd look into it, ya know see if there was anything to it"

"Why?" D'Artangan asked, curious as to why this woman would risk investigating something that could so quickly turn dangerous.

"For Porthos" she said as if it should be obvious

"But why?" D'Artangan pressed

"Not important, continue" Athos commanded, waving off D'Artangan's persistent questioning

"Right, well I managed to get close enough to find out who was behind the plot. He's name's Marcel, used to be Charon's right hand man in the court. Blames Porthos for his death and his own exile from the royal circle – Flea never trusted him see-"

"You grew up in the court with Porthos?" Aramis asked before he could stop himself, "never mind. Continue please" he finished, waving away his question before the woman could answer it

"Marcel and his men are a right nasty lot and they blame Porthos for all their problems. I know the sort of things Marcel will do to him when he gets his hands on him so I ran here hoping I could warn him. Now please can we go find Porthos?"

Treville always prided himself on being able to read people and right now that ability was telling him the woman before him was telling the truth and was genuinely worried for his musketeer.

"Porthos was on a simple delivery assignment, heading to Monsieur Banville hence why he was sent on his own. I want you departing within the hour. If he's fine bring him back and don't leave him on his own. If this threat is genuine and this 'Marcel' has him, find him and bring him home."

Nodding in agreement the three men set to work gathering what they would need to take with them. Stilling only when a voice spoke up "What about me? I wont simply wait around if Marcel has Porthos"

"You'll be safer here" D'Artangan spoke, brushing off the woman's desire and earning him a deadly glare

"Screw safety!" Christelle exclaimed, shocking the men "these weapons aren't just for show and if I was too late and Marcel has Porthos then you'll need someone who knows how that creep thinks to help you find their hideout" she stated stubbornly as she rose from the bed, ignoring the slight throbbing from her ankle, and grabbed her weapons.

"Lets go!"

* * *

"Her I like" Aramis mused as he watched the young woman head for the garrison gates.

"Plus she has a point, if she knows where Marcel's likely to seek shelter it'll be quicker to bring her along than to leave her here and have to return." The medic reasoned quickly when he saw the imminent protest forming on Athos's lips

"If she slows us down, or hinders us" Athos started only to be cut off by the medic

"Then we send her back to the garrison, come on, let's go, I want to grab some things from the infirmary before we leave"


	3. Searching

**Evening My Lovelies **

**Loving that I managed almost 20 followers after just 2 chapters **

**I'm hoping you'll all like this new chapter we're not getting to the whumpage until chapter 5 but I promise you it will be worth it. I was feeling particularly mean when I wrote it so I'm whumping practically everyone MWHAHAHA **

**Anyways thank you to followers/favouriters/reviewers i love you all **

**Enjoy **

**xxx**

* * *

**Chapter Three: Searching  
**

"Can you ride?" D'Artangan enquired; they needed to make good time if they were to find Porthos before anything happened and he doubted someone who grew up in the Court Of Miracles would have ever had the opportunity to ride a horse.

Christelle scoffed, finishing retying her hair into a tight braid before turning to the young man "I may have grown up in the Court but I wasn't born there, yes I can ride"

Any further questions from D'Artangan were pushed to the back burner as Aramis and Athos returned from the infirmary – the medic not wanting to be caught without supplies if Marcel was as bad as Christelle has insinuated

"We'll head to Banville's estate first, there was nothing confidential about this mission so I doubt Porthos would have deviated from the main road, keep your eyes open for both trouble and Porthos" Athos ordered before sending an amused look over to the group's resident medic as the man's attempt to be a gentleman and help Christelle up onto her horse was blatantly ignored – well it seemed like there was at least one woman that was immune to the Spaniard's charm.

* * *

Aramis glanced over at the young woman riding beside him, he was sure this woman cared deeply for his brother and his heart warmed at the thought that Porthos had people outside their tightknit group who cared as such for him.

Thinking of Porthos brought a grimace to the medic's face – he had been the one to kill Charon, not Porthos and yet it seemed it would be his brother who would be punished for that act.

Aramis did not carry guilt for killing the man – he had after all been about to murder his brother, but that did not mean that he didn't carry guilt for killing Porthos's childhood friend. His brother was always hesitant to speak of his time growing up in the Court but he had learnt early that he had had three friends who each looked after each other fiercely – like family, and Aramis had been the one to take a member of that family away – it was an act he would never truly forgive himself for, regardless of the fact that Porthos had never blamed him for it.

The pain Porthos would no doubt be subject to should be his to bear – this simple fact resonated loudly in the sharpshooter's head, despite his attempts to force it away and to focus on the task at hand.

"So how'd you injure your ankle" Aramis asked as the group slowed their horses to a walk – he was desperate to have something to pull him from the guilt that was consuming him and was using this question to both do that and to determine how much pain the injury was causing the girl. If she was indeed the third friend Porthos had mentioned – the first two being Charon and Flea, then the medic was determined not to let her be in pain if he could help it.

"Tripped whilst running" Christelle shrugged, brushing off the dull throbbing that had been nagging at her since they set out, "forgot how uneven the back streets in Paris could be"

"You sound like you've been away for a while"

"Two years" Christelle replied wistfully "not the circumstances I wanted to return to I'll admit."

"Why did you leave?" D'Artangan queried, he knew little of the musketeer's past so the young Gascon was eager for the chance to hold a conversation with one of his friends, who wasn't trying to blow up a bunch of people and a large part of the city.

"Personal reasons" Christelle answered deliberately being vague. The young woman had to stifle an eye roll when she saw the matching incredulous looks on the faces of the men in her present company – did they really believe that she was going to just up and tell them all her deep dark personal secrets just because they were Porthos's friends? … Hell even Porthos didn't know everything about her.

"Where did you go?" D'Artangan tried again – never let it be said the lad was anything but stubborn

"Travelling"

"I remember now!" Aramis exclaimed, looking very pleased with himself that he'd been able to remember, "Around two years ago Porthos got in a right panic, said one of his friends had gone missing. Forced Treville to give him time off to look for them and everything"

"If I had told him I was leaving he would have tried to stop me" Christelle replied, guilt heavy in her tone for how her actions had impacted her dearest friend.

"It was hard enough to leave as it was," she mumbled so quietly only Aramis, who was riding next to her, heard it. The medic raised an inquiring eyebrow at this but said nothing as he had a strong suspicion that he wasn't supposed to have heard it.

"Wonder if he's still mad at me" the woman grumbled, earning an amused chuckle from the medic beside her.

"I'm sure he'll forgive you. He'll probably just be glad you're okay"

Christelle shot the Spaniard a disbelieving look, could she really be that lucky, would he forgive her so easily. Christelle knew first hand that Porthos was one of the most forgiving men out there, but then again she'd left him without any sort of explanation or even a farewell and went without contact for two years – even the most forgiving men have their limits and she prayed that she hadn't pushed him past his.

* * *

Athos had said nothing during the exchange between the girl and his brothers, choosing to instead observe the woman who had run herself to the point of exhaustion to warn their bear-of-a-brother.

The girl was short, barely 5ft 3inches but she possessed a confidence that forced you to overlook it. She had long jet-black hair that was now tied into a tight braid and hung over her left shoulder. From what skin Athos could see, she was tanned and had the greenest eyes he had ever seen – he doubted it would take Aramis long to compare them to emeralds or some other cheesy flirtation.

Two things about her confused him though; one – despite the heat, she insisted on keeping as much skin as possible covered at all times, even though he could see how uncomfortable she was. And two – the way she held herself, both in the saddle and when she stood spoke to lessons in etiquette, something a 'street rat' from the Court would never receive.

"Who would have thought the Comte De LaFèrè would be caught doing something so undignified as staring at a lady" Christelle jested breaking Athos's concentration. She knew she shouldn't but she couldn't help but smirk at the musketeer who squirmed uncomfortably when she called him out on his staring.

"How do you know I'm Comte De LaFèrè?" Athos pressed, his brothers knew that he didn't want it to be known who he was before the musketeers so he doubted Porthos would have told this girl – especially as it seemed they had been out of contact for the last few years.

"Information's my job Monsieur Athos" Christelle shrugged "Plus we've met once before, albeit briefly"

* * *

"Up ahead!" Aramis warned, successfully cutting off Athos's question before he'd even begun to ask it.

"Ambush" Athos growled out, almost sounding feral, as he looked around the scene that was before them.

A fight had clearly been fought here, several bodies littered the ground and a couple of the trees bore wounds from stray musket shots or gashes from blades.

"Athos!" called Aramis, his wavering tone bringing D'Artangan and Athos rushing to him. In the medic shaking hands was Porthos's headscarf – torn and now splattered with blood but still recognizable to those who'd seen it before.

"Marcel's men" Christelle spat, gaining the attention of the three men.

"You're sure?"

"Recognize this lout from the Court, he was always hanging around Marcel – all puppy like." Christelle explained, kicking the dead man before her gently with her foot to turn his head towards the musketeers, "Not the sharpest mind but would follow whatever Marcel said. No way he's here and Marcel's not involved."

The three men grew concerned at the anger and venom that lay behind the woman's tone whenever she said Marcel's name but they had little time to question that at the moment.

"Where would Marcel take Porthos" Aramis spoke, refusing to believe his brother was dead.

Silence reigned for several moments as Christelle pondered the Spaniard's question "I don't know this area well so I can't say for sure but I can help narrow it down if you can tell me what is around here… Although"

"Although?"

"Marcel is smart, I don't see him hiding out so close to the ambush site where men would first look when sent to search for Porthos."

"You think he took him further away?" D'Artangan questioned, his fear for his friend making the Gascon sound much younger.

"No question" Christelle replied confidently. "There's got to be tracks from a cart or wagon around here somewhere, that can at least give us a direction."

"Wouldn't he have covered the tracks?" Athos asked, no longer bothering to hide the concern for his missing brother.

"He'd be distracted by Porthos and would expect people to search the nearby places first – giving him plenty of time to get away" Christelle replied absently as she focused on searching for tracks to follow.

"There!" she exclaimed "These are definitely from a wagon – this has got to be them" she explained, pointing out the tracks to the musketeers

"They're heading north. Mount Up!"

* * *

Several miles away Porthos lay unconscious in a wagon.

Surrounded, Defenseless and at the mercy of a lunatic who blamed him for all his problems.


	4. Stressed

**Evening my lovelies :)**

**Made it to 20 followers whoop whoop! :) **

**Only one chapter away from the start of my whumpage of practically every character mwhahaha :)**

**I have a whole backstory decided for Christelle which is slowly coming out so I hope you'll all stay around to read it **

**Anyways as always much love to followers/favouriters/reviewers you guys are all awesome **

**Enjoy**

**xxx**

* * *

**Chapter Four: Stressed  
**

Athos was seriously beginning to question the point of bringing Christelle with them. They had ridden throughout most of the day, now beginning to lose the light and she had yet to point them to any possible hideouts for where Marcel could be holding their missing brother.

D'Artangan and Aramis had also picked up on their leader's growing agitation and annoyance, which had made them much quieter and more well behaved than usual – not wanting to risk the man's ire when he was in one of these moods.

Neither man wanted to break the silence and speak but both knew they would have to stop soon and as such they begun a silent war with each other, each willing the other to break first and save them from speaking up.

"We need to find somewhere to stop soon Athos" D'Artangan spoke, his mind going to all the ways he could remove the smug grin from Aramis's face.

"The horses need rest and none of us have eaten since breakfast," he continued when Athos refused to answer him.

After several tense moments, during which the pair thought Athos was going to force them to search in the dark, Athos gave them a grudging nod and nudged his horse to head over to a dense patch of trees, which would provide them sufficient cover and protection for the night.

* * *

When they had all dismounted, Aramis's attempts to aid Christelle once again being brushed off, and had tended to their horses, they began the task of setting up camp – having spotted signs of a lake in the distance Christelle offered to refill everyone's now empty water skins whilst D'Artangan collected firewood and Athos and Aramis saw to clearing the camp and getting started on the cooking.

"Remind me again why we brought her with us" Athos griped as soon as the girl in question was out of earshot.

Aramis sighed; he knew Athos was feeling hopeless and that it was growing with each passing hour that they were no closer to finding Porthos. It was a feeling he felt as well but it would not aid his brother to refuse willing help nor to turn down a source of information… Trying to tell Athos this however, was much harder than he'd anticipated

"All she has done is lead us on a wild goose chase, she hasn't even spoken for the last few hours" Athos moaned – inside he knew it wasn't the girl's fault and that it was her own growing fear for their missing friend that stilled her tongue, but the concern for his brother had chosen to show it self as anger and as such directed itself at the easiest target.

"We've been following the wagon trail" D'Artangan replied, confused at the anger the musketeer seemed to have for Porthos's friend. The girl had been reluctant to talk about personal matters sure, but did that really warrant the attitude Athos was giving her?

"For all we know she's leading us into a trap and has been working with Marcel from the beginning" Athos growled, frustrated that his brothers seemed all to willing to trust this girl.

"I'd rather die than work with Marcel" Christelle spat fiercely, successfully startling the men who'd been so wrapped up in their conversation that they hadn't noticed her approach.

"And we're just supposed to take your word on that?" Athos questioned, slightly taken back by the venom in the woman's voice

"Athos" Aramis warned quietly – he'd seen the rage boiling in the small woman over the course of the day and now Athos's accusations were about to push her to breaking point if he wasn't careful.

"You want proof?!" Christelle yelled, before chucking the water skins at the musketeers and practically ripping her long sleeved top off.

The sight that greeted them immediately silenced any further remark from Athos, as he stood shocked at the scars from both blade and fire that littered the woman's body.

"This!" Christelle growled, gesturing to her scars "is what Marcel does to people who cross him, and I'm someone he 'likes'" she ranted, spitting the word 'likes' as if it were venom "As I said I **know **the sort of things Marcel will do to Porthos so if you think for one second that I'd do anything to intentionally delay finding him, then you Monsieur as very mistaken."

Sending the elder musketeer one last glare, Christelle picked up her clothes and stormed off to the edge of the camp.

* * *

Squeezing his brother's shoulder reassuringly Aramis stood and walked over to the young woman – it killed him to see a woman treated the way she had been, made all the worst by the fact that she was Porthos's friend. He remembered when she had disappeared, or simply left as it turned out, and how distraught Porthos had been at the thought of something happening to her. Added to that the fact she had run herself to the point of actually collapsing from exhaustion just to try and warn him made the medic trust her – after all, any friend of Porthos's was good in his books.

"You okay mademoiselle?" Aramis asked gently, not eager to enrage the woman further.

"If you have come to accuse me of something else please just leave now" Christelle croaked – remembering what Marcel had done to her had broken the dam of emotions that had been building within the small woman since she'd learnt of the threat on Porthos's life… And now all she wanted – besides her best friend safe and alive, was to be left alone to break down away from prying eyes.

"I would never" Aramis said resolutely, graciously ignoring the tears that were threatening to fall from the young woman's eyes as she turned to face him looking both hopeful and confused "I can see you care for Porthos… That's enough for me and if you're still willing to help us find him we would welcome your assistance"

"Of course I'm helping. Would be even if you chucked me out," Christelle mumbled, suddenly finding anything more interesting than the Cheshire grin that had grown on Spaniard's face.

"Well then, with that settled" Aramis stood and held out his hand to the young woman "Lets get some food, it'll make Athos less grouchy" he finished with a wink, causing Christelle to chuckle slightly as she allowed him to help her up.

* * *

Returning to sit by the fire Christelle was passed a bowl of stew from a rather guilty looking Athos, the silent apology in his eyes did not go unnoticed by the girl and she sent him a nod and small smile before digging into her food.

They managed to make it another twenty or so minutes before Christelle finally had had enough of the looks D'Artangan had been sending her way

"If you have a question just ask" she said with a sigh

D'Artangan's cheeks gained a slight pink tinge at being caught out but he quickly responded "Its just… When you said Marcel liked you… What did you mean?"

That question had the rest of the group eagerly listening in, the question plaguing them as well but each unsure whether asking it was worth the risk of facing the girl's wrath.

"Apparently he had… has feelings for me. I straight up told him no, he didn't take it well" She summarized, absently rubbing one of her scars on her arm.

"Is he why you left?" Athos inquired, earning a surprised look from the young woman – she hadn't realized he'd actually been paying attention to their discussion earlier.

"No I left for… other reasons. Getting away from Marcel was just an added benefit"

Sensing that they would not be getting more information regarding her departure from Paris Athos decided to steer the conversation back to the subject they had all been avoiding – their missing brother.

"So where would Marcel likely take Porthos – it'll be more efficient if we all know what we're looking for tomorrow"

Christelle sent a small grateful smile to the musketeer. Her reasons for leaving Paris were something that she would share first with Porthos – if she decided to share them at all.

"Marcel's similar to Charon" Christelle started after several moments, gaining the full attention of the group "He always wanted more than the Court, but never was willing to honestly work for it… He'll probably aim for something better than an open camp or deserted shack" She explained.

"Like a manor house?" D'Artangan asked hesitantly, earning himself confused looks from his brothers but a hopeful smile from the young woman

"Exactly like a manor house"

"D'Artangan?" Athos pressed

"We passed by this way, my father and me, on our way to Paris. Its easily another several hours hard ride away but if we keep to this path there's this manor house that looks like no-ones lived there for years"

"Empty and noble-looking" Christelle mused, a smirk soon forming on her face, "Sounds like somewhere Marcel would pick in a heartbeat"

"We leave at first light, with luck they wont have had much time to do anything. I'll take first watch so each of you get some sleep" Athos ordered.

* * *

Waking up with a pounding headache and a loud groan it took a few minutes for Porthos's brain to begin comprehending his situation.

1) It was now dark out – he was sure the sun had been out before all this.

2) He was not out on the road as he had been previously, but was instead in, what appeared to be a basement

3) There was an annoying trickling feeling on the side on his head – most likely the cause of his thundering headache

4) He couldn't move his arms or legs – closer inspection alerting him to the fact they were shackled to the ground.

5) He had been stripped of all his weapons and personal effects.

Alone in the dark, weaponless and disorientated with no idea as to where he was or how long he had been gone, Porthos could only hope that his brothers would notice his absence and find him soon.


	5. Hurting

**Evening My Lovelies**

**I was going to update this later in the week... but I felt mean denying you all the whumpage for so long so here we go, the next load of chapters have lots of whumpage and there'll be a lot more in the future so please stick around for that. **

**Any thoughts on what you would like to see happen? feel free to send me ideas and i'll work it in if i can**

**Lots of love to all of you who follow/favourite/review you're the best! :D**

**Enjoy **

**xxx**

* * *

**Chapter Five: Hurting  
**

His second wakening was much more painful than the first. The first had been nothing but a pounding headache that could easily rival an Athos style hangover.

But the second… This time Porthos was forced awake by the agonizing bite of a whip as it was lashed against his back.

With his brain too muddled by the pain of the whip and the concussion he was confident he had, Porthos lacked the appropriate brain-power to comprehend how he had gotten from being shackled to the floor to having the chains on his wrists latched to a beam running across the celling.

Another snap of the whip brought a loud hiss of pain from the musketeer, the stubborn part of his brain being determined not to give his tormentors the satisfaction of hearing him scream.

"Finally with us, eh Porthos?" sneered a voice from behind him – a voice he was sure he knew but was unable to place what with his mind still being overwhelmed by the concussion and pain.

"Hope you don't mind that we got started without'cha" the voice mocked as it brought the whip down once more.

"Who the hell are you?" Porthos growled, unaware that his difficulty in remembering his tormentor was only angering the man further.

"So you spend a few years away for the Court and suddenly the people you shared the gutter with aren't worth remembering?" the man yelled, putting down the whip and walking in front of Porthos – sending the musketeer a venomous glare before punching him hard in the ribs, knocking the air out of his lungs.

"Marcel" Porthos growled as he struggled to get air back into his starving lungs. Cursing his terrible luck – of course the reminder of his past would come back in the form of the slimy creep that was Marcel.

* * *

Porthos never trusted the man, he'd always been overly ambition in their moneymaking plans – persuading Charon to go after higher profile targets and take more risks.

He knew that Flea shared his concerns over the man's trustworthiness and between them they had tried to distance Charon from the time bomb that was Marcel.

The fact that Marcel had become dangerously obsessed with his childhood friend Christelle only concerned the man further. He knew Christelle had no interest in Marcel and was in fact incredibly uncomfortable with the attention he had been giving her – Porthos himself having to step in several times when Marcel pushed the line too far.

Porthos had almost killed the man when he saw what Marcel had done to Christelle the last time she denied him and when the girl had disappeared several months later Marcel had been Porthos's first suspect.

* * *

"Ahhh so you do remember me"

"Why am I here Marcel?"

"Do you like what I've done to the place?" Marcel rambled, ignoring the musketeer's question – gesturing to the room, which was filled with all manor of torture devices, Porthos felt himself pale at the sight.

"Crank it up if you will Peter" Marcel ordered to the man still standing behind Porthos.

Porthos was unable to contain the howl of pain that escaped him when a crank was turned, tightening chains holding his wrists – with his feet shackled directly to the floor his body had no leeway, so the stretching of his arms was accompanied by a sickening pop as his right shoulder left its socket.

"Ooooh that sounded like it hurt" Marcel sneered as he prodded the now dislocated joint – drawing another hiss of pain from the musketeer

"Why am I here" Porthos ground out – the pain from his injuries was making it hard to focus but he had hope his brothers would find him. Aramis seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to knowing when he was in trouble and he had no doubt he could easily persuade Treville to let them look for him when he didn't show up during the allotted time. He just had to hold on until then.

"For revenge!" Marcel bellowed – delivering another punch to Porthos's ribs as he did. "You and your musketeer scum killed Charon! And with him you took away my chance at something other than the stinking Court!" Marcel finished by backhanding the musketeer across the face – the ornate ring he had stolen from a nobleman several days ago, cutting into the man's cheek and lip.

"You talked Charon into agreeing to blow up the Court?" Porthos wanted to be surprised, he really did, but with Marcel nothing mattered more than getting better than he had – even if it meant obliterating hundreds of people.

"We would have been rich!" Marcel screeched as he landed another punch on Porthos's already bruised ribs – smirking evilly when he felt the bone crack under his fist.

* * *

"Marcel!" came a shout and the door was flung open and an out of breath young man dressed in mismatched clothing flew into the room.

"There's four riders approaching! Robert says a couple of 'em have cloaks like that" he panted, pointed to the discarded musketeer issue cloak on the floor.

Porthos felt himself have hope for the first time since this whole ordeal started. Marcel had been 'seeing' to him for the past several hours switching between cursing Porthos and the musketeers and rambling out his plans – all in between torturing the large musketeer. It had taken all his will power not to give into oblivion to escape the pain.

He had clung on to the belief that his brothers would come for him, but as the hours grew and the pain intensified that belief had begun to dwindle. But to hear that they were coming caused hope to blossom once again.

There was absolutely no doubt in Porthos's mind that three of the riders would be his brothers, Athos, Aramis and D'Artangan. He had no idea who could possibly be the fourth rider, any help from other musketeers would have seen another blue cloak in the riding party – something the scout had not reported, and Porthos had few friends outside the regiment, at least those who would risk their lives to save him… Well there was one name that came to mind but that person was likely many leagues away and Porthos would give almost anything for it not to be her, for if she showed up here, in front of Marcel, she would be in more danger than all of them combined.

"How the hell did they find us so fast" Marcel growled, snapping Porthos out of his thoughts

"Clearly you ain't as good at this 'getting away without a trace' stuff as you claimed" Porthos mocked, the statement earned him a strong kick to the lower back, but in Porthos's opinion it was worth it for a chance to rub it in Marcel's face that his brothers had found him.

"You musketeers and you stupid 'all for one' mentality" Marcel spat, gripping Porthos's dislocated shoulder tightly – relishing in the hiss of pain and squirm the musketeer couldn't contain. "Oh well, we'll just have to take care of them as well" he shrugged, releasing his grip on Porthos's shoulder "Alive is better than dead, but under no circumstances do you let them walk out of here!" Marcel continued, turning his focus now to the few of his men that were in the room.

The confidence Marcel had made Porthos worry. He had only seen a handful of men and had no way of knowing if the lunatic holding him had any more men hiding out in the rest of the house. For all he knew his brothers – and their mysterious guest, were walking right into a trap.


	6. Breaking In

**Evening My Lovelies **

**Even more whumpage in this chapter so I hope you all like it :) **

**Please drop me a review if you have a spare moment I love hearing all your thoughts on the story so far :D**

**Many Thanks to those who follow/favourite/review **

**Enjoy**

**xxx**

* * *

**Chapter Six: Breaking In  
**

Christelle could barely contain the smirk that threatened to appear as she placed her spyglass back into her satchel – the device was so battered and worn that most people would have replaced it years ago, but she just couldn't do that. It had been a gift from Porthos shortly after receiving his commission in the musketeers. It had reminded her of hi…home when she had been away; it had brought her comfort on her travels and reminded her of the promise she had made herself.

"So? What do you think?" D'Artangan asked as he watched the woman place the battered spyglass away.

"That place practically screams Marcel" she replied with a devilish grin forming on her face – she was no longer the scared, shy girl who Marcel had attacked, she was eager for the chance to get revenge.

"You saw trouble?" Athos enquired as he watched the girl arm one of the two pistols she carried at her hips.

"Not at this distance, but Marcel's smart – no way he doesn't have scouts ready to alert him the second they spot us. I don't think there's much chance of a surprise attack, so best be ready for a fight boys" she replied with a smirk before nudging her horse forward again – missing the amused look sent her way by the groups marksman.

"You any good with them mademoiselle?" Aramis questioned lightly as he rode up beside her. Many would be concerned at the marksman's apparent nonchalance at the approaching situation but those who knew him knew that it was just his attempt at distracting his mind from what could be happening to his beloved brother in the halls of that house at that exact moment.

"I may not have your skills monsieur but I promise I am capable enough" Christelle replied in the same light tone – she knew how much these three men meant to Porthos, even if the newest addition was unknown to her, and if keeping up the casual nonchalant conversation would lessen the worry of one of them that that's exactly what she would do. Though she couldn't help but laugh at the surprised look that graced the Spaniards face at the mention of his abilities with firearms – they had yet to face any enemies so she should, she supposed, have little knowledge of the men's skills. "Porthos talks a lot… especially when it comes to hyping up his friends when he's drunk" she supplied with a wink, before becoming serious after a few moments of silence "he speaks very highly of you Aramis, I know the belief he has in you and will have in your ability to save him. Please don't diminish that by doubting yourself and focusing on the worst possible outcomes"

Aramis had no words with which to reply so he settled for simply nodding. He was both troubled and reassured by the girl's understanding of Porthos's apparent faith in him, but couldn't quite get rid of the nagging feeling that they were heading straight into a trap.

* * *

"I think we should split up" D'Artangan voiced as they approached the house, gaining the full attention of all the members in the group.

"Think about it" He continued "A house this big has to have multiple entrances, splitting up would give us a better chance at finding Porthos than if we stuck together"

Nodding proudly at his protégé's logic, Athos took charge, "Aramis – you head for the servants entrance, avoid the guns if you can – it'll only draw more men to your position" Aramis nodded before checking over his supplies and weaponry one last time. "D'Artangan – take the rear entrance" D'Artangan nodded, glad that his idea was being taken onboard but still a little nervous at splitting up in a house full of an unknown quantity of armed men who wanted them dead. "I'll take the front – hopefully I can draw out more of his men and leave the path clear for you" Athos stated – Christelle had already informed them that Marcel was likely to only have a couple of truly skilled men in his entourage – the rest being men who at best knew the sharp end of a sword from the hilt. The musketeer was confident that if her assessment were accurate then they would be okay.

"Guess that leaves me with finding a window" Christelle spoke, stretching as she did.

"Go with Aramis" Athos ordered, "It'll be safer for you"

"Thought we covered this back at the garrison" Christelle scoffed "I can handle myself… now are we going to stand here and argue it out or are we going to help our friend?"

* * *

D'Artangan cursed his luck as he stared down the group of men approaching him. He'd barely been in the house five minutes and had already found trouble. He was easily outnumbered 10-1 and was desperately wracking his brain for every lesson his brothers had taught him should he ever arrive at this sort of situation.

"Lookie here boys" Sneered the group's apparent leader "Looks like the musketeers will even take runts into their ranks… They must really be desperate to take you runt"

_Head over heart, head over heart _D'Artangan chanted, willing himself not to give into the man's continuous taunts – he was honestly proud of his restraint and wished Athos had been there to see it… Then again if Athos was there they probably wouldn't have been surrounded he mused.

"Wonder if he screams as loud as the otha fella" a second man jibed – instantly pulling D'Artangan's focus

"Where's Porthos!" the Gascon growled, all the earlier restraint slowly draining from him.

"You'll see 'im soon enough boy" the leader sneered, raising his sword "Marcel said they was to be left alive … didn't mention nothing about what condition we leave you in"

That statement was all the warning that D'Artangan had before all the men attacked. He'd tried… He really did but quickly found himself flagging as he tried to defend himself from all angles.

As such, the battle was quickly over when one of the men drove his dagger into D'Artangan's leg – instantly bringing the Gascon to his knees and the men wasted no time in binding his wrists together so tightly he couldn't contain the wince that escaped him – causing the men to smirk and grin.

"Take him to the other one" the leader ordered, still smirking "I bet poor Porthos is missing his runt" he finished before laughing at the glare D'Artangan sent his way.

* * *

"I come bearing gifts Porthos!" a man bellowed as he entered the room.

Determined as he was not to show weakness in front of any of his jailors Porthos forced himself to lift his head – an act that took a lot more effort than it should have, pain and blood-loss had left his body so fatigued all the musketeer wanted to do was sleep, but that was out of the question. Especially when he saw the 'gift' this man had brought him.

"D'Artangan!" he called hoarsely, anger replacing all pain as he saw the bruised and bloody form of his brother. The men who had found him had apparently decided to make the young man walk to Porthos's room, even with his badly wounded leg – resulting in the Gascon falling numerous times, and with his hands tied behind his back, he was unable to break his fall. Added to that the men had also decided that every time he fell they could beat him, as such there now wasn't much of the young man that wasn't or wouldn't be, covered in bruises and small cuts.

The sound of his name being called brought D'Artangan back away from the fog of pain that had surrounded his brain, as he looked to the source he felt his blood turn to ice and his skin pale

"What the hell have you done to him!" D'Artangan snapped, lashing out at the men holding him. Although all that got him was a sharp push from behind, causing him to fall to the floor **again** and the young man had seconds to quickly turn slightly so that he wouldn't bash his chin on the stone floor.

"Marcel's been having fun," sneered the man that had pushed him

"One down three to go" the group's leader spoke as he kneeled in front of the Gascon – causing Porthos to tense as much as he could in current position.

"Why don't you make it easier on yourself and tell us where the rest of your little rescue party is hiding?" he asked, jabbing his thumb into the gash on D'Artangan's leg, causing the man to howl with pain.

Before Porthos could muster the energy to respond to the mistreatment of his brother D'Artangan spat in his tormentors face – a feat that brought a small grin to the musketeer's face

"Have it your way," the man growled, before stabbing the Gascon in his other leg, eliciting another howl of pain from the young man.

"They'll be joining you both soon enough anyway," he mocked as he exited the room

* * *

"D'Artangan… Hey whelp you with me?" Porthos mumbled, his throat too raw to attempt speaking any louder – not that he had the energy for it anyway

"…I'm good P'thos" D'Artangan breathed out after several moments "what about you?"

Porthos would have raised an eyebrow at that… if he had the energy, instead he decided to conserve as much as he could by focusing on just answering the boy's question. "Think I'll be needing 'Mis's skills" he admitted, realizing that now was not the time to be hiding injuries – not that he could hide them even if he wanted to.

"There anything I can do?" D'Artangan asked, his eyes roving over his brother's hanging form – assessing the injuries he sustained and realized that the was little he could do for the man – Aramis, as the group's medic, carried the supplies, so the Gascon had nothing with him to help his friend.

"Can you move" Porthos asked hesitantly.

"If you need me to," D'Artangan answered determinedly

"There's… a crank behind me" Porthos motioned "keeping the chains tight, think you can get to it and lower me down?" He hated to ask this of his brother, having seen the blood pooling on both his legs, but the possibility of relief from having to stand so straight was overruling everything else in him.

Not bothering to answer him D'Artangan proceeded to slide himself across the floor – having realized that attempting to stand would only aggravate his injuries more. It was incredibly slow going and it became increasing more difficult for the Gascon to contain his pained whimpers as he dragged his injured body across the floor.

Eventually he was able to reach the lever and slowly lowered his brother to the floor – the larger man no longer bothering to contain his sounds of pain now that he was in friendlier company.

He reached a hand over to D'Artangan's arm, a silent show of support and comfort that both men desperately needed as they awaited news of the rest of their friends.


	7. Capture

**Evening My Lovelies :)**

**First off thank you to everyone who's taken the time to send me a review :) all the positive comments and feedback make me happy :)**

**I'm also hoping you're all prepared for some more whumpage (I did promise a lot of it)**

**Felt really evil with the end of this chapter but it works for what I have planned out story wise so I hope you all like it**

**As always thanks to everyone who follows/favourites/reviews this story you're the best *high five!***

**Enjoy**

**xxx**

* * *

**Chapter Seven: Capture  
**

Porthos supposed he should have felt relief that, in all the commotion, he and D'Artangan had been left alone – their guards apparently deciding that neither man was capable of getting to the door, let alone unlocking it and escaping. An assumption that he hated to admit was correct – He'd be surprised if D'Artangan could so much as twitch his legs without searing pain and he was so tired and moving gained him even more pain as the movement pulled on his many wounds. From this assessment Porthos noted resignedly that the act of freeing them had now fallen solely on his brothers Aramis and Athos… As well as the fourth rider who'd travelled with them. He had wanted to ask the whelp who this person was but he pushed that desire away as he focused on more pressing issues.

He had managed to get to his discarded clothes – having been stripped of all but his breeches when Marcel had taken him. Porthos wasted no time in attempting to tear the shirt into strips – however with only one workable arm it had proved impossible until D'Artangan sighed and snatched the shirt from him and tore it for him – his own hands having been freed thanks to a small dagger the Gascon had produced from his boot – gaining him a surprised look from the exhausted musketeer, the Gascon answered with a small, weak smile by saying he'd learnt from his experience with Vadim to always keep a weapon concealed on him in case he ended up tied up again.

Both men had been concerned about the blood D'Artangan had been loosing and so the Gascon did not complain when Porthos had insisted that they use the strips to bind his legs – at least until Aramis could stitch them up. It had been up to the Gascon to bind his own wounds as an anxious Porthos could do nothing but watch on and offer soft, comforting words when the pressure caused his little brother to whimper in pain.

D'Artangan had then forced the musketeer to let him look at his arm, the boy knew how bad it could be if the joint wasn't reset soon. Thankfully for the first time in a while it seemed luck was on their side as for whatever reason the joint hadn't swollen too badly and the Gascon was able to maneuver it back into place with only some difficulty and minimal swearing from Porthos. He then used the last of the makeshift bandages to create a sling for the arm – keeping it close to the large musketeer's chest before draping the cloak over his brother who's skin had become cold to the touch after having spent so long in the cold basement in only his breeches.

* * *

The relief Porthos felt was short lived however as some time later the door opened again, causing both men to tense – Porthos, subconsciously out of fear that Marcel had returned to continue his torture and D'Artangan as a way to be ready to fight back against anybody who tried to hurt his already suffering brother.

Neither reaction was needed as the men who entered were more focused on depositing their quarry than antagonizing the captives further.

"Athos!" D'Artangan cried as he recognized the unconscious figure the men had thrown on the floor to be his beloved mentor. He ached to go over to him, to check he was okay, that he was simply unconscious and not, as he feared, dead. But the pain in his legs was too much – his earlier shifting to reach the crank for Porthos had drained him and the thought of the excruciating pain that moving would bring him had anchored him firmly to the floor, despite his overwhelming desire to move to his mentors side.

Porthos was in a similar situation; Athos was one of the strongest and most skilled men he knew. It was unnerving to see the man so vulnerable and in such an injured state. Had his session with Marcel not left him feeling so tired and weak he would have been by his brother's side in a heartbeat but seeing as how all his energy was being focused on keeping him awake and somewhat alert he had none to spare for movement.

Having to settle for doing a visual inspection from a distance both D'Artangan and Porthos frowned at the state of their leader and friend. The man had a large gash on his head that was causing blood to flow freely down his face – no doubt this was the cause of the man's current unconscious state. The elder musketeer was also sporting multiple cuts and abrasions over his body and a misshapen lump on his leg led them to believe that his knee had become dislocated

Their assessment was interrupted by a loud groan as Athos shifted on the floor and began to wake up.

"You with us 'Thos?" Porthos asked, voice still sounding painfully raw to the Gascon's ears.

Hearing his brother's voice startled Athos's body into waking up fully and the man pushed himself up to a sitting position – wincing as the action pulled on his numerous wounds. When his eyes focused in on the condition of both his brothers he could barely contain the growl that threaten to escape him – all his pain was instantly forgotten at the sight of his brothers broken and bleeding across from him.

"How bad?" Porthos asked, his tone hard having seen the dangerous look in Athos's eyes and instantly recognizing the need to focus the man on something else.

"Not as bad as you I doubt" the swordsman replied, his eyes never leaving Porthos's wounds. "And what happened to you?" he queried turning his gaze to his young protégé

"Athos" D'Artangan pressed, having seen the winces and hitched breaths his mentor had tried to hide.

"D'Artangan" Athos countered, stilling any further protests with one of his famous glares and the Gascon sighed in exacerbation before launching into the tale of how he'd been surrounded almost instantly by at least ten men and how he'd come by his injuries and bruises.

"They must have known we were coming" Athos said grimly

"A scout warned Marcel and he rallied his men not too long before I heard all the commotion" Porthos said, confirming Athos's statement

Athos frowned at this, he had not spotted any such scout – despite Christelle's assurance that Marcel would have at least one on look out. This meant that Marcel's men had clearly been hold up in the house for some time if they were able to maneuver in the surrounding areas without detection.

"Now what happened to you?" D'Artangan pressed, directing Athos's focus back to their apparent injury sharing session.

"There were more than I had expected, a couple of them got in some lucky strikes" he stated, gesturing to his back, causing the two men listening to contain growls of their own at the knowledge that the men hadn't even had the honor to fight a man head on, they'd resulted to cheap shots when his back was turned and his attention focused elsewhere.

"They don't feel too deep but Aramis should check them when he's done with the two of you" Athos continued as he ignored their anger "One of them, a big man, slammed his sword hilt against my hand… pretty sure its broken" he finished with a shrug, flinching when the action pulled the wounds on his back.

"What about your knee?" D'Artangan asked causing a confused look to pass over Athos's face

"That I don't know, I can only assume it happened after this" he supplied, gesturing to the gash on his head

"Okay. Well how did that 'appen?" Porthos questioned

Silence reigned for several moments, as it seemed that Athos was struggling to remember what happened exactly.

"Got thrown into the edge of a wall I think" Athos answered hesitantly, his concussed brain giving him difficult remembering exact details.

"Well that wasn't very nice of them" came a jesting voice from the doorway, causing each man to quickly turn – and subsequently wince as the action pulled their wounds.

"'Mis" Porthos sighed, he'd been fearing for his friend since the arrival of the other two men and was more than relieved that, aside from looking a bit disheveled and covered in the odd splatter of blood that the musketeer doubted was his own, his friend appeared fine as he stood facing them with his trademark smile firmly in place.

Suddenly a shot rang out and the three men watched in horror as the marksman collapsed and a man stepped over him as he entered, carrying a still smoking weapon.

"Now" the man stated, seeming oblivious to what he'd just done "who wants to tell me where the fourth member of you're little party is hiding and just who the sneaky little rat is?"


	8. Anger

**Evening My Lovelies :)**

**I'm hoping you all don't hate me for the last chapter's cliffhanger I seem to have a thing for them it appears lol :)**

**Lots of high fives to those who follow/favourite/review - you're all awesome **

**Enjoy**

**xxx**

* * *

**Chapter Eight: Anger  
**

It took everything D'Artangan had not to throw his small knife into the man standing before him. It was only the acceptance that, in his current, weakened state, that he would most likely miss a fatal hit – resulting in angering the man further and costing them their only weapon that stilled his hand. But still, the sight of one of his brothers bleeding out in front of him made him seriously question that logic.

"What'cha lookin' at me for Marcel, I've been 'ere with you" Porthos growled as he tried to keep his tormentors attention focused in the direction of him and D'Artangan, allowing Athos – who was by far the most mobile out of all of them, to shift over to Aramis's side to check for a pulse and to help keep him alive.

"I wouldn't do that Monsieur" Marcel sneered, turning to point the pistol at Athos.

"Shoot me if you must but I will check on my friend" Athos challenged as he continued moving to his brother's side, he was confident the man would not shoot, if for the simple fact that he would have to reload first – leaving him vulnerable to attack, even as battered and worn as they were Athos knew his brothers would not hesitate to push themselves over their limits if another one of their brothers was threatened.

"Tell me who your fourth rider was and I'll give you this" Marcel bargained, raising a bag from the entrance of the room – Athos instantly recognized it as Aramis's medical supplies, the marksman refusing to leave it with their horses in case Porthos was in urgent need of it.

Porthos was confused, he did not understand why Athos was hesitating, 'Mis was bleeding out in front of them all and all he had to do was to give a name – for Athos to agree to let this person to come with them in the first place must mean the person had some skill with weaponry, surely between the three men they had taken care of most of Marcel's men, he doubted there was more than a handful of people as well as Marcel left at the property. From their explanations of their capture it was only because of sheer numbers that they had been caught, the fourth rider should have no such trouble.

A small whimper for beside him cemented Athos's decision and he could only hope that Porthos would forgive him. Sending a guilty look to his brother, apology evident in his eyes he steeled his expression as he turned to the man that had injured his family. "An old acquaintance of yours and a friend of Porthos's I believe… Christelle."

Porthos was torn between wanting to rejoice that Christelle was alive and wanting to jump up and throttle Marcel when he saw the evil glint in his eye at the mention of Christelle's name.

"Chrissy's back?" he said giddily, more to himself then the other men in the room, but his tone sent shivers down the musketeer's spines nevertheless

"I best go find her then" he spoke before turning to smirk at Porthos's agonized expression "it's been sooooo long since we've seen each other… we have much to catch up on"

"Leave her alone Marcel!" Porthos cried, the frustration at not being able to help his friend making him feel hopeless and pathetic.

"I think not, you can't keep me from her this time" Marcel sneered before turning back to Athos, who could no longer hide the guilt that marred his face. "See to your man" he said, dropping the bag at the musketeer's feet. "Wouldn't want you all dying too soon," he mocked as he sauntered out the door.

Athos wasted no time in stripping Aramis of his shirt to gain better access to his wound. Sighing in relief when he realized that although deep, the shot had not hit a vital location – meaning that barring complications his friend should recover and it was likely the shock and the impact of hitting his head as he fell that kept their Spaniard in an unconscious state. Relaying this information to the two injured men, he was met by a warm, relieved smile from D'Artangan but a strained smile from Porthos. Dipping his head in guilt Athos waited for the inevitable.

"Why the hell did you bring Christelle here?" Porthos growled at his friend. The anger in his tone surprised the other two men slightly – it was a tone that was very rarely, if ever used when he spoke to them. It was often reserved for those who had truly angered the larger musketeer.

"She refused to wait at the Garrison" Athos spoke, his voice calm with a hint of guilt – he knew that telling Marcel the girl's name was very risky and that should anything happen to her, Porthos would likely never forgive him. But he'd had to make a decision, the girl or Aramis and to him, who had no attachments to the girl, the decision was a no brainer.

"What was she doing in the Garrison in the first place?"

"She heard you were in trouble and ran there hoping to warn you" D'Artangan answered. He was unwilling to let Athos carry all the guilt and blame, neither he nor Aramis put up any resistance to the woman accompanying them so the fault was equally theirs as well.

"Explain" Porthos growled, his anger was diminishing slightly at the looks of pure guilt and remorse on his brother's faces, but his overwhelming fear for Christelle's safety would not let it go completely.

"She collapsed in the courtyard, having run herself to the point of exhaustion. Insisted on speaking to you and then panicked when she was told you had been sent on a solo mission. Both Athos and Treville tried to get her to stay but she wouldn't hear it, said she knew how Marcel would think and wanted to help find you. Then she stormed off to saddle a horse." D'Artangan supplied, hoping the succinct summary of events would be enough for his brother. "It was her who deduced that Marcel wouldn't keep you near the ambush site and that he would be holed up here."

"Chris was always too smart for her own good" Porthos smiled faintly "Stupid girl should be nowhere near here"

"What did Marcel mean by 'you can't keep her from him this time'?" Athos asked, relieved that he could see the anger being directed at him diminishing "I take it that it is something to do with the scars she carries?"

"She told you about them?" Porthos asked, honestly surprised that she'd trusted them enough in the short time she had known them. Life in the Court didn't create people who trusted easily and Christelle was especially wary of who she trusted with secrets.

"She showed us," D'Artangan answered, a slight blush appearing as he remembered the girl stripping off to show them her scars "Athos accused her of working for Marcel."

"Bet that went down well" Porthos scoffed, Christelle had a fiery temper that usually shocked people who met the quiet, shy young girl. It generally took a lot to unleash it, the girl could have the restraint of a saint when she wanted to and Porthos couldn't help the smile that threatened at the thought of Athos's face at being yelled at by the small woman whose head just reached his chest.

"…Surprised she didn't slap 'im" groaned a voice beside Athos, startling the men

"Don't move" Athos ordered as he placed a hand on the medic's lower back to still him. "I've stopped the bleeding but it's too dark to stitch it up properly" he explained, smiling fondly when the marksman huffed – but remained still.

"Marcel won't kill her" Porthos spoke after several moments, instant sobering the mood that had turned slightly joyous at Aramis's wakening. "He'll break her first… He got close once, I barely got there in time" Looking up at Athos Porthos continued "took 'er months to recover from what 'e did to her and that was only the physical wounds"

"Can you move?" Athos asked Porthos seriously "The two of us are in the best condition to go looking for her"

"Are you forgetting about your knee?" D'Artangan asked incredulously, he couldn't believe his mentor was seriously going to try walking on a dislocated knee.

Athos frowned at the offending joint – honestly having forgotten it in all the commotion of Aramis getting shot.

Shaking his head at Athos D'Artangan motioned for him to come to him "I'll reset it for you if you can get to me"

Nodding his agreement and thanks to his protégé Athos made his way over to the Gascon's side and gritted his teeth as his knee was put back into place.

* * *

Once he had recovered Athos sent a questioning look over to Porthos – he could tell his friend was in bad shape, the flushed cheeks and gleam of sweat over him told Athos at the very least his brother had a fever. Porthos's arm was also in a makeshift sling that Athos could only presume D'Artangan had fashioned for him – very much doubting their host would be so kind. The hitched breaths and way the larger musketeer held himself rigidly stiff, as if afraid to move, did not go unnoticed and Athos swore to keep a close eye on his brother. But he also knew that the man would not simply sit there whist he childhood friend was in danger and at least this way he had back up.

The two musketeers had been wandering around the estate for a short while, each man eternally grateful that they had not encountered many of what remained of Marcel's men – they had only spotted a couple and Athos had been able to knock them out before either man could alert anyone else. Both men knew they wouldn't be able to go on much longer – Athos's knee and head were both pounding and he was getting dizzy spells with much more regularity. Porthos on the other hand had been struggling from the get go but now his energy was almost non existent and he was having to lean against the walls or on Athos to keep himself upright.

However all pain was forgotten when a terrified scream pierced the air.


	9. Fear

**Evening My Lovelies :)**

**First off sorry about not uploading last night, felt really ill after work so just ended up falling asleep when I got in (slept like 14 hours!) anyways to make up for it I'm going to upload two chapters today :)**

**I've also spent most of today writing - I'm on a proper roll at the moment, managed to write like 4 chapters :D**

**Also TRIGGER warning near the end of this chapter: I don't really go into any details or explicitly say that it happens but its something I wouldn't wish on anyone and felt I should just give you all a heads up just in case. **

**Anyways thanks again to all of you who follow/favourite/review this story you all rock! **

**Enjoy**

**xxx**

* * *

**Chapter Nine: Fear  
**

D'Artangan could barely contain his nerves at the thought of two of the three men he loved dearly wandering around injured while he was stuck here unable to help.

He had forced himself to shift over to Aramis when the others had left – the pain in his legs almost made him pass out, but the need to get to the Spaniard overruled everything else. He had been ecstatic when the medic had awoken earlier but he knew he wouldn't be able to relax until they were all safely out of this cursed house.

"…You okay 'Tan?" Aramis asked weakly. The sharpshooter had seen the bloodstained fabric wrapped around both of the boy's legs, and if he was honest with himself he needed to focus on anything but the burning pain in his back.

"Don't think I'll be walking anytime soon" D'Artangan replied grimly as he looked at his legs – had Marcel's men left it at just the one injured he would have been able to at least hobble out… but now, now he doubted he'd even be able to stand without being in agony much less walk.

Before Aramis could reply to the Gascon's surprisingly honest admission of his injuries with anything other than a sympathetic smile a petrified shriek penetrated the air.

* * *

Christelle had thanked her lucky stars that the majority of Marcel's men had been stationed on the ground floor – and her, having hoped for this, had climbed a tree to enter the building through a first floor window.

Infiltration complete Christelle began her snooping, implementing every evasion and stealth technique she had picked up from growing up in the Court Of Miracles she made her way through the rooms. She doubted Marcel would be holding Porthos up here, but that didn't mean that he definitely hadn't, nor that he hadn't stashed his belongings there – and as a fellow child of the Court Christelle understood the importance of these items to her friend.

It didn't take her long to locate Porthos's weapons – clearly Marcel wanted to admire all the things he had stolen as they were laid in amongst other valuables that she knew didn't belong to either Porthos or Marcel, such a women's jewels or ornate trinkets.

Attaching his pistol and sword to her belt and stashing the dagger in her boot, Christelle was about to move rooms when she heard the distant sounds of battle. Dropping to the floor she crawled he way over to the window so to not be seen by anybody who might have chosen that exact moment to look up. Peering over the edge of the window Christelle felt her mouth drop open – she had heard of Athos's skill with a sword, Porthos had told her many tales of elder musketeer but it was a completely different thing to actually see him in action.

Below her, just outside the manor was Athos, fighting and beating at least fifteen armed men. Christelle watched in awe as the musketeer attacked with such elegance and finesse that it was almost like a dance, only to wince as she watched a man, larger than Porthos, slam his sword hilt into the musketeer's hand, and although she was too far away to be sure, she was confident that the hand had been broken.

She continued to watch the fight until she saw the musketeer get knocked unconscious. Cursing the fact that she now had two men to find, Christelle moved to continue her search of the upstairs rooms.

* * *

She had been so focused on her search that she had no idea how much time had gone by when she was startled by the sound of a gunshot.

Panic swelled up in the small woman as the thought of Porthos being shot bombarded her mind. She prayed that it had not been him, that maybe one of the other men she had traveled with had fired the shot. Pushing away morbid thoughts Christelle continued her search, though if there was a sense of urgency in her step she paid it no heed.

"Chrissy? Where are you? I know you're here somewhere my dear" came a voice that sent shivers down the young girl's spine as she desperately tried not to break down and have a panic attack. _Not that scared little girl anymore, I wont let him hurt me again _she recited to herself in an attempt to give herself courage.

Marcel continued to call for her as he unknowingly approached the room she was currently hiding in. Drawing her sword at the sound of approaching footsteps she prayed that she would not forget all the lessons Porthos had taught her when it came to handling a sword she felt her heartbeat increase rapidly as Marcel stopped by the door.

"There you are my love" Marcel spoke as he approached the young woman, a smirk growing as he notice the slight tremble of her body and the way whenever he approached, she stepped back. "I've missed you"

"Where are Porthos and his friends?" she asked, impressed with herself by the lack of fear in her voice, "what have you done with them?"

"Don't tell me you're still hung up on that worthless piece of dirt are you?" Marcel mocked, anger creeping into his voice "He'll never feel the same, you know that. It has always been and will always be Flea"

"He's worth a hundred of you!" Christelle snarled as she lunged at him.

The two of them fought for several minutes and while Christelle had the advantage in terms of skill and speed, Marcel had her beat on brute force, every clash of their blades sending shockwaves down her arm until she could no longer maintain the grip on her sword, dropping it to the ground.

Marcel, wasting no time, grabbed the young woman's arms and flung her onto the bed before climbing on top of her, pinning her.

"I'll make it so that he'll **never **want you" Marcel snarled as began to rip at her clothes.

No longer concerned with acting strong Christelle screamed as she struggled to fight back.

* * *

Athos glanced over to his brother as they made their way up to the manor's first floor, having found no sign of the missing woman on the ground level. Since they heard the woman scream minutes earlier Porthos's face had hardened and the musketeer had ignored all attempts at conversation.

"Porthos isn't that?" Athos murmured quietly as a swaying figure appeared in the distance from a doorway, heading their way.

"Chris!" Porthos exclaimed, picking up the pace to meet the woman half way.

Christelle honestly didn't think that her name had ever sounded so good and she almost collapsed in relief at the sight of her beloved friend. Instead she ran to him, tears streaming down her cheeks as she was enveloped into the safety of his arms.

"We heard you scream are you okay" Porthos said after a couple of moments, pushing the girl back to get a better look at her – he could see several bruises beginning to form on her face and to his utter disgust her clothes were all torn and disheveled.

"I'm okay" she reassured her friend as she wiped the tears from her eyes "Marcel's dead" she finished before noticing the lack of two of the men.

"Where are the others, are they okay I heard a shot?"

"Marcel shot Aramis, I managed to get the bullet out but it needs stitching, was too dark before and Marcels men stabbed D'Artangan in both of his legs" Athos replied sensing whatever happened or almost happened to the girl was something she did not want to discuss.

Christelle nodded slowly, before turning to the elder musketeer, her face now devoid of all the earlier panic and fear "You have the medic's supplies?"

"Yes" Athos replied wondering where she was going with this, having never mentioned skill or interest in healing.

"Take me to them and I'll do what I can"

"Her needlework's as good as 'Mis's 'Thos don't worry" Porthos assured his friend when it looked like he was about to question her skills.

"And don't think I haven't noticed that I need to look at the pair of you as well" she retorted, her tone fond as she slowly followed the two men down the stairs to where their friends awaited them.


	10. Wounds

**Evening Again Loyal Readers**

**As promised here is today's second chapter.**

**Its also my longest chapter so far this story Whoop Whoop! (not by much but who cares lol)**

**Just so you know this story wont end with Marcel, someone from Christelle's past will be making an appearance leading to even more whumpage! (I'm so mean mwhahaha (I'm also slightly hyper sorry)) So please stick around for that and some proper PorthosXoc moments.**

**Anyways thanks again to followers/favouriters/reviewers**

**Enjoy**

**xxx**

* * *

**Chapter Ten: Wounds  
**

The eerie silence that followed was almost worse than the scream itself and D'Artangan had his hands full trying to save his brother's life.

The sound of the girl screaming had brought out the protector in Aramis as the sharpshooter, regardless of D'Artangan's attempts to stop him, had attempted to stand – causing his wound, which Athos had managed to staunch less than an hour earlier, to begin bleeding again. Despite this, and the pain it was causing him, Aramis continued to try and move, guilt and dread pushing him on. He had been the one to vouch for the woman, to get Athos's permission for her to travel with them – she was his responsibility and the Spaniard doubted Porthos could forgive him for being the reason two of his childhood friends were dead.

"Are you **trying **to kill yourself!?" D'Artangan exclaimed, slapping the medic on the back of the head as he desperately tried to force his friend to stay still so he could attempt to stop the bleeding before it killed him.

The smack to the head surprised the medic enough for him to freeze, wasting no time D'Artangan used all his remaining strength to put pressure on his brother's wound – forcing himself to ignore the cry of pain that the action initiated.

"She'll be okay" D'Artangan whispered softly to the marksman, though whether it was to convince him or the Gascon himself he couldn't be sure. "Porthos will never forgive you if you kill yourself, you know that right?"

Hearing the larger musketeer's name caused the musketeer to still completely – he had caused his friend enough pain to last a lifetime, he wouldn't add to it by dying… His little brother was right; Porthos would **never **forgive him for that.

Glad that his brother was finally seeing sense D'Artangan allowed himself to relax slightly, his concern for his brothers and the young woman prevented him from giving into the sweet temptation of oblivion that had been calling him since Aramis had started shifting – trying to save his brother had the unfortunate side-effect of restarting the bleeding of his own wounds, though he wasn't entirely sure whether it was the blood loss or the pain that had made his body cry out for rest or if it was a mixture of both.

* * *

As it turned out however he had little time to contemplate this new development as soon the door was pushed open – the boy instantly tensing, dagger in hand ready to protect his friend to the death if needs be.

"Peace D'Artangan it's just us" Athos commanded as he took in the sight of the pale, wounded Gascon, gripping a dagger in one hand – the other resting protectively on Aramis's back. Although he would deny it till the end of time the scene had created a warm pool of emotions to flourish within him.

"Put that down before you hurt yourself" chastised Christelle mockingly as she gently pushed Athos aside to kneel before the two injured men, choosing to ignore the mock glare sent her way by the Gascon as she did a quick assessment of their wounds and the supplies they had on hand.

"He's in bad shape," she murmured as she lifted the sodden cloth to look at Aramis's wound.

"He tried to get up when he heard you scream, it started bleeding again when he did" D'Artangan supplied as he did his own visual assessment of the girl in front of him – the implications of her torn clothes that now hung off her at odd angles and the bruises that marred her face told a story of why she had screamed and D'Artangan could only hope that his brother's had gotten to her before Marcel could do anything more than that to her.

"You're worse" Christelle commented, oblivious to the Gascon's earlier statement as her complete focus was on the injured.

Unwrapping the makeshift bandages that covered the Gascon's legs, Christelle wasted no time in grabbing a set of tweezers from the medic's bag to pick out the loose bits of fabric that had been pushed into the wounds when the injuries were inflicted. Her ministrations brought forth pained whimpers from the young man that she forced herself to grit her teeth and ignore, focusing on the thought of making him healthy, not causing him pain.

She had little time to even consider attempting to comfort the boy as she worked but thankfully she needn't have worried as Athos had sat himself by the boy's side – pulling him close to his chest as she worked, giving the boy comfort while he braced him so he wouldn't fight back against the pain as his instincts called for him to do.

"I'm sorry" she whispered, sneaking a glance at the Gascon, before pouring a generous helping of the brandy the medic kept on him for times like this onto his wounds. The scream that tore itself from the Gascon broke the hearts of his friends but they forced themselves to remember that he needed it to fight off any chance of infection.

* * *

Athos was surprised by the young woman's skill and precision – despite her obvious exhaustion, no movement was wasted as she worked with a focus he had only ever seen on Aramis when one of them was in a bad way. However he was so focused in providing comfort to his beloved protégé that he completely missed the wince that escaped the young woman as she moved to get better access to the Gascon's other leg. In fact the only person who did notice was Aramis but exhaustion and pain fogged up his brain and he couldn't quite figure out how to get his mouth to work to question it.

"That should do it" she sighed as she finished wrapping a new bandage around D'Artangan's legs. "The blades missed anything vital and the bone so barring infection he should make a full recovery – he wont be standing, let alone walking anywhere for a while though" she supplied, smiling fondly as she took in the looks of relief that graced the faces of all three men.

She then turned her concerned gaze to Porthos, he was the reason she was here after all and although he had been up and about earlier she had no doubts that it was only pure adrenalin and fear for her that had given him the strength to do so. Her first hand knowledge of Marcel and his methods led her to believe her dear friend was hurt much more than he was letting on.

Seeing her concerned gaze turn to him Porthos gave her a subtle shake of the head as he motioned to Aramis laying next to her – indicating that she should focus her attention on him before it was his turn, though he couldn't help but smile as she huffed at him before nodding at him.

"Come on lover-boy your turn" Christelle joked as she placed a hand to the medic's forehead – checking for any signs of fever, sighing in frustration at the warmth she felt there.

"Please fight monsieur" she pleaded quietly to the now unconscious medic, before picking up the tweezers again to clear the wound – it was obvious to her that Athos had tried to clean it before but hadn't, for whatever reason been able to finish.

It took her much longer that she had originally anticipated to clean the wound but now satisfied that she had cleared it of all foreign matter she picked up the brandy bottle and sent up a prayer that the musketeer would stay asleep for this part. Athos was still sat by the injured Gascon and Porthos was in no condition to be moving so she had no one to hold him down should he react to the liquid.

Unfortunately for her, the prayer went unanswered as, the second the liquid touched his wound Aramis began to flail – one of his arms managed to catch her across the face with enough force that she was pushed off balance, yelping as she landed on the floor.

"I'm good!" She called quickly to stop Porthos's attempts to rise and help her up.

Pushing herself back onto her knees Christelle swallowed a wince that threatened to escape as she focused on the task of stitching up the, once again still, musketeer.

* * *

"Athos" summoned Christelle quietly so as to not wake the three sleeping – or unconscious men. For the last few hours her focus had been entirely on the injured men and Athos hadn't even heard her make any noise since Aramis had smacked her in the face a while earlier.

"What is it?" the musketeer responded just as quietly, slight concern seeping into his tone as his mind conjured the worst case scenario's for why she had suddenly decided to speak.

"Can you walk?"

"I can" he replied hesitantly, he had decided that his cuts and injuries were comparably minor when you looked at the state of his brothers so he would not bother the woman, who had already seen to his broken hand, by letting her know that he wasn't sure just how long he could stay standing and walking for.

"At the back of the house there's the wagon they used to transport Porthos" she stated, not taking her eyes off of the task of re-stitching the Gascon – as a nightmare had caused him to pop a few stitches. "It's still attached to the horse, do you think you could bring it around so we can get these men out of here? I'm loathed to leave them in this basement and don't think being surrounded by all of Marcel's dead men is really good for their recovery"

Athos nodded at her logic, it would do them a world of good to get out of this place, for Porthos and Aramis especially. Whilst the large man wanted his brother's to believe him to be fine, Athos knew that the longer they stayed here, the slower and more painful his brother's recovery would be. And for Aramis, he already had a slight fever, if it worsened to the state of delirium then being surrounded by dead men, regardless of the fact they were enemies, would take the Spaniard back to Savoy – and that was something Athos would endure any amount of pain to avoid.

"They're okay to travel?"

"Can't say it wont be painful for them but they'll live" She reassured, relaxing slightly as the decision to leave was made.

Catching the musketeer's gaze landing on Porthos, Christelle smiled fondly as she pushed herself to her feet – gritting her teeth as she did. "I'll see to him while you're getting the wagon, the fact he was walking earlier is a very positive sign"

Nodding his thanks to the woman Athos left the room and slowly headed to where he had been told to find the wagon.

"Okay you big lug" she chided fondly as she positioned herself by Porthos's side "lets see what hurts you've been hiding shall we?"

The sight that greeted her when she removed what remained of Porthos's shirt brought tears to her eyes. Her dearest friend's back was marred in horrid marks from being whipped, in fact there was scarcely a section of his back that hadn't been touched.

Deciding to do a cursory examination before choosing what to start with Christelle was pleased to find that, aside from the whip marks and badly damaged ribs Porthos wasn't as bad as she had expected – it would appear they arrived just at the right time. Looking at all the torture devices left in the room Christelle had feared for her friend's condition but it would seem as though Marcel didn't have time to use any of them.

Steeling herself for a possible attack Christelle poured the remaining brandy over Porthos's back. To her relief and concern Porthos remained still – she could only hope that it was simply exhaustion that prevented him from reacting and not anything more serious.

Athos arrived shortly after she had begun to bandage the injured musketeer – many of the whip gashes weren't deep enough to require stitching so Christelle decided to simply keep an eye on them for any signs of infection. She would create a salve to better help them heal when they were gone from this place.

"Wagon's ready" came a voice from the doorway, startling the young girl slightly

"Good, I'm just finishing up here then we can move them and get the hell out of here"


	11. Assessment

**Evening My Lovelies :)**

**Thanks to the lovely review's I've been receiving I've decided to upload 2 more chapters today :)**

**I've been on a inspiration high this weekend so managed to get a lot written (yay :D) **

**Anyways thanks to everyone who follows/favourites/reviews this story, your support means a lot :D**

**Enjoy **

**xxx**

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: Assessment  
**

Getting three fully-grown and completely unconscious men out of the basement and into the wagon was a grueling, painful task for the two remaining people and both of them felt ready to collapse when it was done.

It was only the thought of getting away from the house kept them going as they both mounted the same horse – having left their own horses tethered away from the house so they would not be caught in the crossfire. Knowing they would need to collect them sooner rather than later, Athos – who was in front simply so Christelle could dismount faster if any of the injured men needed her, spurred the horse on.

Infinitely thankful, if not a little bit surprised, that all of their horses were exactly where they left them, Christelle dismounted, and after a quick check on the wagon's occupants mounted the horse she had been given at the garrison.

Deciding that their best option was to head back along the road to Paris and simply stop at the first inn they spotted, the party that now consisted of three musketeers – all injured to various degrees, one badly injured Gascon ex-farmer, an exhausted girl from the Court Of Miracles in torn, disheveled clothing and five horses, headed down the road, all relaxing slightly the further they were from the house and the events that happened there.

* * *

"Are you okay?" Athos enquired gently to the young woman, he had been watching her since they set off and had noticed she was beginning to slump in the saddle more and more as time went on.

"Tired" came a mumbled reply causing the musketeer to frown – he had know she was exhausted before they had even reached the house, having watched her get little to no sleep when they camped out the night before their 'rescue' and then, when Marcel had shot Aramis – effectively putting their medic out of commission, it had fallen to the already drained young woman to keep them from death's door. He could only imagine just how much of an understatement her 'tired' actually was

"We're making good time, there should be an inn not too far from here"

"Okay" slurred Christelle tiredly, forcing herself to sit upright in the saddle – she would still have to make the salve for Porthos's back, a poultice to fight off infection for D'Artangan and Aramis's wounds, check everyone's stitches, ensure Athos's hand was still properly set and check the elder musketeer over properly before she could even begin to think about sleeping… or tending to her own needs.

* * *

True to Athos's words they did indeed reach a small inn not too longer after he had made the declaration and Christelle could barely contain a grimace as she dismounted her horse, hours spent kneeling on the floor, hunched over tending to the wounded coupled with hours in the saddle had left the young woman completely sore all over.

"I'll get us a room, check on them," Athos commanded, stalking off before Christelle could reply.

Sighing in exhaustion Christelle turned her attention to the men in the wagon, fully expecting to find them all still unconscious, so when she was met by the slightly glazed eyes of the flirtatious Spaniard she was both startled and relieved.

"Glad to see you awake monsieur" she spoke softly, placing her hand on his forehead – internally cursing when she noticed his fever had risen slightly since they departed Marcel's residence.

"…Wh…Where are we?" Aramis murmured confused

"At an inn a couple of hours ride from the manor house"

"…Athos?"

"Getting us a room, now how are you feeling – your fever's risen slightly so I'll make something for that when we're settled."

"mmmm… My back hurts" Aramis whined, bringing a small smile to the young girl's face at the completely childlike look that the action gave him.

"Well" she said, in a tone not unlike a mother dealing with a troublesome toddler, "You **were **shot, I'd be concerned if it didn't hurt" she finished with a smirk before taking pity on the musketeer "I'll make something for the pain soon as well"

"I got us their largest room" Athos interrupted, completely unaware of the now awake medic "It's not much but the landlady told me it has several beds – they might have to share though"

"I don't wanna share," whined the medic – injury and fever apparently reverting the man into a child

"Aramis" Athos sighed, both relieved that his friend was awake and concerned at the attitude he seemed to have adopted.

"It's either share or the floor" Christelle chided the musketeer with a smirk, seemingly taking his whole attitude in stride.

"Fine" the medic huffed before dozing off again.

Giving the men an appraising look the woman turned to Athos "please tell me the room is on the ground floor"

Smiling slightly at the woman, Athos nodded and together they began the arduous task of carrying all three men into their room, deciding to have D'Artangan and Aramis share so as to not aggravate Porthos's raw back – Christelle had kept the true extent of the damage hidden from Athos, sensing that the musketeer would carry the guilt for it even though, if anything the guilt laid solely with her as she didn't get there fast enough to warn him before anything could happen.

Once all three men were settled Christelle pushed Athos into a chair so she could properly assess his injuries – Porthos had warned her, in all their talks before she left, that Athos had a tendency to ignore or brush off injuries until they physically forced him to keel over.

Athos had been surprised at the tired woman's tenacity, but allowed her to check him over – realizing that 'need to see to everyone else before yourself' mentality that he had seen in Aramis when they were injured and he knew he had little chance of persuading the woman to sleep before she had checked on everyone and had made them as comfortable as possible.

"The split did its job" she informed him with a tired smile "lugging those guys about hasn't done any further damage. Where else, besides your head were you hurt?"

Realizing that the sooner she was done with he, the sooner she would move onto his brothers and in turn the sooner it would be that she would sleep, Athos decided to be honest.

"Dislocated my knee" he told her once he had composed himself from her inspection of his hand

"Anything else?" she asked not looking at him, her focus already zoning into the man's knee – it had been reset properly but it could do with some rest and maybe a cold compress to take some of the pain.

"A few cuts on my back, don't think they're deep though"

"Turn around and I'll take a look" she ordered, too tired to pay any attention to her bedside manor, or lack of it.

Agreeing with the musketeer's assessment, that the gashes didn't need stitches, Christelle settled with cleaning them before covering them with bandages before asking the landlady, who had stopped by to see if they needed anything, for some cold water to use on his knee and Aramis's fever.

"How are they?" Athos asked hesitantly, not sure if he could handle bad news.

"D'Artangan will be fine if he stops pulling the stitches" she jested, secretly pleased with the small smirk that appeared on Athos's face

"Aramis has a fever, it's not too high at the moment but we'll need to keep an eye on it, as well as keeping him from using that arm. The shot went in quite deep so the muscles are going to be very sore and painful for a while."

"And Porthos?" he asked quietly

"His back is in really bad shape" Christelle answered honestly without reveling too much as to the nature of the injury "most of his ribs on his right side feel broken, or at the very least cracked so he's going to have to very careful with them, then add the fact that he most likely hasn't eaten or drunken anything, let alone slept at all since being taken his body is in a weakened state so we'll have to be vigilant in fighting off any infections."

"I'm going to get to work on making something for the pain and Aramis's fever" Christelle said, motioning to the pile of herbs she had taken from the medic's second saddle bag "why don't you see about food, maybe some broth for these guys" she finished with a smile before returning her focus to the brewing poultice.


	12. Healing

**Hello Again Loyal Readers**

**Here is the second chapter for today :)**

**As always thanks to followers/favouriters/reviewers **

**Enjoy **

**xxx**

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: Healing  
**

Athos watched in complete awe as Christelle tended to his brothers – his attempts to aid had been rebuffed with an intense glare at his hand and slightly swollen knee. The woman's movements practically screamed confidence and, despite his earlier hesitance to trust her, Athos found himself relaxing at the sight of his brother's being tended to.

But it was not her skill that had the stoic musketeer in awe of the small woman, although it didn't hurt, no it was her strength and determination that had the musketeer's respect. Despite having no more than four or five hours rest in the last three days Christelle refused to rest until she had done absolutely everything for all of her patients.

* * *

She had one down already – having given Athos orders to eat and then drink the pain reliever she had made for him before getting some rest. He had, of course, tried to fight her on it but a not so subtle warning that if she could pick the pockets of a man who was fully expecting it without him either noticing or feeling it then it would be no small task for her to drug his wine to make him sleep, had the musketeer complying with her orders.

Choosing to leave Porthos for last as he was finally resting peacefully Christelle decided to start with the Gascon.

Having checked that the boy hadn't pulled any stitches Christelle created a poultice to help fight off any infections and plastered a large helping onto each of his wounds – the action brought small whimpers from the young man and Christelle was quick to glare at Athos, as the musketeer was about to rise from his spot on the floor to be at his little brother's side.

"Sleep" she ordered, her tone daring the musketeer to fight her on this "I've got this" she spoke softly, a small smile appearing on her face as she began singing softly to calm the injured boy – who, whether from her voice or gentle touch she didn't know, began to fall into a more peaceful rest.

With both of the Gascon's legs seen to Christelle – still singing faintly, set to work creating another poultice that would help heal the numerous bruises that littered the boy's body.

Once D'Artangan had been seen to Christelle pushed herself to her feet to move over to the Spaniard, the movement drawing a small hiss of pain from the girl, who at this point was grateful that the rooms other occupants were soundly asleep.

Reaching the marksman, Christelle was please to find that although his temperature was still quite high, it was beginning to show signs of lowering. Removing the now sodden bandage from Aramis's back she couldn't contain the frustrated sigh that escaped her. _Is it some sort of musketeer code that one of you always has to pull and pop your stitches? _She huffed. Once the stitches had been redone Christelle made quick work of cleaning and applying a poultice to the wound before wrapping a clean bandage around it – the small song she had been singing before starting up again unconsciously as she worked.

"…That's a sound I haven't heard in a while" came a gravelly voice from behind her – effectively startling the small woman as she finished tying the bandage around the Spaniard's wounds.

"Mon Dieu Porthos are you **trying **to scare me to death!" she exclaimed before a soft smile appeared on her face and she ran a hand soothingly through Porthos's dark curls "How are you feeling my friend?"

"Sore" he lamented, subconsciously leaning into her touch "How are they?" he asked tiredly, motioning to his sleeping brother's.

"With some rest and food all of you will be just fine" Christelle reassured, forcing herself to remove her hand from his hair – Marcel's words about Porthos and Flea still ringing loudly in her mind.

"And you?" Porthos queried, his head feeling the cold with the removal of her hand.

"Me?" Christelle inquired innocently as she lifted his head to allow him to drink some water laced with a pain reliever.

"…Heard you scream" the large musketeer mumbled tiredly as the medicine started to take affect.

"Sleep my friend, I need to tend to your back… it'll be better if you slept through it" demanded the young girl fondly – the musketeer too tired to notice that she had not answered his question.

With one final glance behind her to check the other men were still sleeping, Christelle removed the loose bandage she had wrapped around Porthos's back, wincing at the sight that lay before her. The lack of light in the basement had made it look a lot better than it was – and this was just his back, she dreaded to know what his torso looked like, what with him having at least half his ribs broken.

Drawing a deep breath she turned her gaze to said area – eternally thankful that they had had the foresight to lay Porthos on his side so she could work on both sides and he wasn't putting pressure on either of his injured sides. She quickly found herself cursing giving Marcel a quick death – half of Porthos's torso as almost black and covered in deep painful bruises, the other, while not as bad, was still marred with bruises of varying colours.

Doing a quick check to see if travelling had done any further damage to his ribs – a smile blossoming when she noticed no further damage had been done, Christelle set to work on making a poultice for the bruises, the extra portion she had made when she had made some for D'Artangan wasn't going to help much with such deep bruising and, not for the first time today, Christelle was glad for the sharpshooters forethought in his choice of herbs.

Once the poultice had been applied – and the blush the rose on her cheeks, ignored, Christelle began working on the lashes that were littered across her dear friend's back. Her earlier assessment of the need for hardly any stitches was thankfully still true, only a couple of the lashes would need needlework and she made quick work of the task – knowing from previous experience just how much Porthos hated being stitched and even though he was asleep, she would still try to get it over and done with as quickly as possible for him.

Once stitched, Christelle plastered the wound with healthy heaping's of the poultice she'd made earlier to fight off and draw out any infections before re-bandaging her musketeer and settling herself down at his side – ready to being her vigil over all four of them as they got some much needed sleep.


	13. Questions Asked

**Evening My Lovelies :)**

**As you all have my day with all the positive reviews you've sent me I'm uploading 2 chapters again tonight :D**

**I'm loving the positive response Christelle's getting and we'll be learning more about her soon.**

**Thanks to everyone who's followed/favourited/reviewed this story you all rock!**

**Enjoy**

**xxx**

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen: Questions Asked.  
**

As the hours steadily passed Christelle remained vigilant with her watch – only moving from her stop by Porthos's side when one of the other men showed signs of distress.

The young Gascon seemed to have the more frequent bouts than his brothers and Christelle could only do her best to soothe him from his dreams which were no doubt riddled with images of Porthos's torture and Aramis being shot. She'd passed through Gascony once before and had heard a woman singing a lullaby to her child – the song hauntingly soothing in it's unique dialect, and while she struggled to remember the words she could, at the very least, hum the melody – which she was pleased to find soothed the boy instantly.

Aside from the odd nightmare D'Artangan was actually healing up impressively well. His wounds were clear of infection and he had managed to not pull any of his stitches, despite thrashing while in the throws of his night terrors. She had been vigilant with her application of the poultice to his bruises and was very pleased to see it already having an effect.

* * *

Athos had concerned her slightly with how deeply he had slept, indifferent to the young boy's nightmares but then she remembered that he had not escaped Marcel's clutches without injury, nor had he slept much the night before they attempted their rescue, choosing instead to remain on watch to guard what remained of his family.

A quick check soothed her concerns when she saw that he hadn't damaged his hand further in his sleep and that the swelling around his knee was showing promising signs of decreasing. Those coupled with the soft snores that escaped the musketeer made her confident that it was only pain and tiredness that kept him asleep, not a hidden injury.

* * *

Aramis had been a bit of trouble, his fever spiking again during the night – although she was able to quickly get it under control. But overall even the badly injured musketeer was showing signs of recovery.

* * *

Morning broke and Christelle was gifted with the sight of a very annoyed musketeer when she returned from asking the innkeeper to send up some food and drink for them all.

"Why didn't you wake me?" growled Athos, irritable at the idea he might have slept on while his brothers needed him.

"You needed the rest" she supplied, brushing past the musketeer to check on her patients.

"And you don't? I know you haven't slept much since all this started" Athos enquired, his tone softening at the sight of the tenderness she displayed to his brothers.

"It's nothing I'm not used to" she answered vaguely "besides-" she spoke, turning her gaze onto Porthos "He needs to see you three healthy more than he needs to see me asleep… You're his family" she smiled softly at the elder musketeer, who was staring at her shocked by her statement – not the idea of it, they all considered each other brothers after all, no it was more her casual acceptance of their importance to him. The other friends of Porthos's that they had encountered all seemed to dislike the musketeer's new family.

Seeing the look of confusion and shock on Athos's face Christelle couldn't help but laugh, quickly sending the man a look to show the laugh was not a mocking one. "Porthos is dear to me monsieur" she stated, her hand instinctively reaching for the sleeping musketeer's hair, an act that did not go unnoticed by Athos. "Unlike Flea and Charon, I always knew he couldn't be happy spending his life in the Court and that he deserved, and would get, better than to be, as the nobles like to refer to us, a gutter rat." She spoke, surprising the musketeer once again "Court's not a bad life, especially if you have skills like his… But… if you have morals and ideals like his, well then you'll never truly find your place there."

"What about you?" came a groggy voice, startling Athos slightly.

"Me?" Christelle inquired innocently as she turned to meet the gaze of a now awake Aramis, seemingly unperturbed at his sudden wakefulness.

"How long have you been awake?" questioned Athos, who had decided to put his recent string of surprises and shocks down to his head injury.

"…You all talk too loud" mumbled a tired D'Artangan as he pushed himself up onto his elbows, nodding his thanks to a smiling Christelle as she helped him sit up and passed him some water before moving on to do the same for Aramis – who tried his best to give her his famous charming smile, which in actuality turned out to be more of a slight grimace as the act of sitting up pulled on his wound before she resumed her spot by Porthos.

"My apologies D'Artangan, and to answer your question Aramis… I haven't felt like I have a place in the Court for a number of years now"

Any further questions from any of the men was quickly put on hold when there was a knock on the door as the maid arrived, bringing with her a basket full of food, a couple bottles of wine and several cups of broth.

The sight of food drew a loud growl from D'Artangan's stomach, causing the Gascon to flush pink in embarrassment as soft chuckles reverberated throughout the room.

"Eat some food then get some rest" Athos ordered, his glare daring Christelle to challenge him.

"I'll sleep when Porthos is awake" she negotiated, slightly confused with the smirk and easy acceptance she received in return

"Guess its bedtime for you then kiddo" murmured a voice from beside her.

"We talked about this Porthos!" she jested as she willed her heartbeat to return to normal after being startled by his sudden voice.

"When did you last sleep?" Porthos enquired, turning suddenly serious at the sight of the deep dark circles that lay under her eyes.

"And he means more than the few hours you slept for the other night" D'Artangan said between mouthful's of food.

"Probably since I found out that it was you they were after" Christelle replied sheepishly after several moments "was too focused on reaching you in time to rest after that" shrugged.

"Weren't you on your way back anyways?" Aramis queried, interested in getting answers now she seemed in a talking mood.

"Wasn't planning on coming back just yet… not safe yet," she answered, mumbling the last bit quietly so as to not be heard. Unfortunately Porthos's attention was solely on her so he picked up on it right away.

"What do you mean 'not safe yet'?" he growled at the potential threat against his friend.

"I… ummmm… may have done a thing" she stuttered vaguely, cursing herself for letting it slip.

"What. Thing?" Porthos snapped, pain giving him much less patience than usual, and the fact that one of his oldest friends had done something to get herself in trouble but still refused to come to him, hurt him.

Squirming under the stern gaze of all four men Christelle sighed resignedly, understanding there was absolutely no way she was getting out of this conversation.

"Nothing too bad… just might have set up a small trap… with myself as the bait"

"YOU DID WHAT!" Roared Porthos, startling his friends at the ferocity in his voice.

"It is my **ONLY **way to get the answers I've been searching for!" screamed Christelle, pushing herself to her feet in the hopes of storming out to compose herself before broaching the subject again.

Only, instead of making it to her feet she gasped in pain as the whole room span and darkened into blackness. Her last thoughts of hearing Porthos cry her name.


	14. Wounds Past & Present

**Hello Again Loyal Readers**

**Here's tonights 2nd chapter**

**We get to learn a bit more of Christelle in this one - though her past will really come out in tomorrows upload.**

**Thanks to followers/favouriters/reviews **

**Enjoy**

**xxx**

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen:** **Wounds Past &amp; Present**

Porthos was beside himself as he watched Athos dart forward to catch Christelle as she collapsed to the ground – a look of extreme pain lining her face. He had known his friend was beyond exhausted at the very least and yet he had still chosen that moment to yell at her, to push her far enough that she felt the need to get away from him – that thought alone created a sickening feeling in his stomach that he refused to address.

"Porthos" Called a familiar voice - dragging the musketeer from his self-deprecating thoughts. Gazing up at Athos with a questioning look that was underlined with fear and concern he voiced his silent question to his friend.

"Can you move any? I think it'd do better for her to be on a bed than the floor" Athos asked, his tone softening and turning sympathetic at the look of fear that graced his brother's face.

Instantly grateful for something to do that would aid his friend, Porthos wasted no time in attempting to move. It was slow going and he had to bite his cheek more than once to prevent a moan of pain from escaping him as the movement pulled his sore muscles and numerous back wounds, but soon enough there was enough room for Athos to place the now unconscious woman beside him on the bed.

"She's burnin' up" Porthos stated worriedly, his eyes instantly seeking out Aramis, despite knowing that the medic was in no shape to be moving and in fact would not be able to get out of bed without help and without being in a large amount of pain.

"She could be so tired that her body is causing it but you should check her for any signs of injury" Aramis answered, directing the last part at Athos as he was the only one of them on their feet at that point – though if she needed him Aramis would insist on helping, regardless of the pain it would cause him.

He felt he owed the woman that at the very least, after all not only had she aided in the finding and rescuing of Porthos but she had also taken out the man who had hurt him and saved both his and D'Artangan's lives as well as tending to his other brothers despite the exhaustion she herself was feeling and from what he had gleamed from Athos's earlier argument she had denied herself sleep again the night before, merely to keep vigil over them. It simply wasn't in the Spaniard's nature to deny a person he owed so much to, aid just because it would cause him pain.

Upon Aramis's instruction Athos had begun to check the girl over for any obvious injuries, he was careful to keep her modesty and dignity intact as much as he possibly could – her appearance when they had found her in the manor house told him that being stripped to next to nothing, even in an attempt to help her, was not something she would take well to at the moment.

The examination was slow going as Athos had to be careful not to jostle the bed too much as it would only serve to irritate Porthos's wounds. Eventually he was rewarded by a slight whimper of pain as his hand reached Christelle's leg.

"She's injured?" Aramis enquired, he was not able to see much from his spot on the bed he and D'Artangan were sharing but he was close enough to hear the whimper that had instantly captured his large friend's attention – the musketeer quick to whisper soothing words into her ears as he rubbed circles in the back of her hand with his thumb.

Athos had to bite back a wince as he took in the injury that graced the young woman's leg – a deep gash ran from just under her boots to the back of her knee, it was clear that she had tried to tend to it herself as the wound was initially hidden by a makeshift bandage. Athos found his respect for the sleeping girl growing again as he noted how much pain simply walking would have caused her, let alone carrying unconscious men, riding and the constant kneeling and getting up that accompanied their medical treatment, all of which she accepted without a single word of complaint or pain.

"There's a cut on her lower leg that looks infected" Athos answered, suddenly remember the marksman had asked him a question.

"And she didn't say anything?" Aramis questioned, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

"It was well wrapped so I assume she counted it taken care of" Athos shrugged as he moved to get the supplies needed to clean and stitch the wound.

"Chris never did like people knowing she was 'urt" Porthos spoke sadly, his attention still focused on the sleeping woman.

"Its not a bad wound" Athos reassured, not liking the look in his brother's eyes "I'll clean and stitch it then we just have to keep her cool" he finished by passing Porthos a wet cloth to which the musketeer instantly placed gently on her forehead, smiling slightly when the girl relaxed at the cooling sensation. Upon noticing the look Athos sent a questioning glance to Aramis, who in turn simply replied with a small knowing smile. Shaking his head fondly Athos turned back to the job at hand, his focus now 100% on helping the woman who'd given so much to help his brothers.

"Any idea what she meant by this trap she's supposedly set being the only way for her to get answers?" D'Artangan asked, curiosity finally getting the better of him as well as seeing the need to distract Porthos from the sight of his friend being stitched up.

Running a hand through his hair, Porthos contemplated just how much Christelle would want his friends to know – sighing when he realized that if he was going to protect her from whatever hair-brained scheme she'd gotten herself into that he would need their help he decided to tell them the truth.

"Chris wasn't born in the court, me 'nd Flea found her one morning – hair wild, hands bound and covered in blood that wasn't 'ers, she was frantically trying to run from someone so we took her in." he stated matter of factly.

"She was barely eight," he added softly, stroking the girl's hair as he did so – an act that brought another knowing smile to Aramis's face.

"What about her family?" D'Artangan asked, he was shocked to learn of the girl's entrance into the court, he had known she wasn't born there – Christelle told him herself before they'd set out but for a child to be in the position Porthos described, he couldn't begin to image just how scared she must have been.

"From what I gathered, they're all dead… don't know how, but they were…"

"Of noble blood?" Athos supplied earning him a surprised look from Porthos along with confused looks from D'Artangan and Aramis

"How did you…?" Porthos stammered, he strongly doubted Christelle would have told him that seeing as how Porthos himself had only learnt about her lineage by accident.

"She shows signs of etiquette training only found in noble families and she knew I was Comte De LaFèrè" Athos shrugged "She clearly tries to hid the signs in her speech though" he added as an afterthought

"Any idea as to just how noble they were?" Aramis asked, curiosity gleaming in his eyes as he watched the fallen noble sleep though Athos's stitching.

"Enough to warrant someone wanting to decimate the entire family" Porthos answered as he reapplied the cool cloth to Christelle's forehead.

"So those are the answers she's after? Who murdered her family?" D'Artangan summarized.

"…Not Exactly"


	15. Confessions

**Evening My Lovelies**

**Only one chapter tonight I'm afraid but I'm hoping the end of this one will make up for that fact.**

**We learn more about Christelle in this chapter so I hope you like that**

**I'm a bit stuck on one of the later chapters - I cant decide between having a badass Christelle or having the musketeers repaying her for saving them by saving her (either way there will be whumpage) what would you guys prefer?**

**Anyways thanks as usual to followers/favouriters/reviewers**

**Enjoy**

**xxx**

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen: Confessions  
**

All attention was instantaneously focused on the voice that had spoken up beside Porthos.

"You're awake!" the musketeer exclaimed, the joy at seeing his dear friend awake evident in his tone "how are you feeling?"

"I'm fine Port… Don't worry so much, you'll get wrinkles that'll ruin that fine face of yours" she reassuringly joked, before she realized exactly what she had said, at which point both hers and Porthos's faces turned a light shade of pink – much to the amusement of the rest of the room, who gracefully ignored the comment and its outcome.

"What do you mean 'not exactly'?" Athos asked seriously, pulling focus back to the subject they had been discussing.

"I already know who murdered my parents" she supplied bitterly, missing the shocked looks that past between the men as her attention was currently on the frayed edges of her shirt. "The question I want answers to is Why"

"You never mentioned about knowing who did it" Porthos mumbled, hurt evident in his tone.

"I only heard rumors of it before I left" she sighed, desperate to reassure her musketeer that it was not lack of trust that stilled her tongue she continued "It was my family so I needed to be sure of the information, it's why I left… I had to know. And when I did, I set in motion my trap, I was going to come home when it was dealt with."

"Who?" Porthos growled, he was glad to finally have answers as to why she left but the discussion had brought back memories of a terrified young Christelle and God have mercy when Porthos found the man who had hurt his friend so.

"My elder brother, Cole"

* * *

Silence reigned in the room for several moments as all its occupants let the statement sink in, the atmosphere quickly turning from serious to disgusted as the men that valued brotherhood absorbed what the young woman – who had now propped herself up beside Porthos, who in turn had slung an arm over her shoulders, had said.

"Your brother?" Athos asked dismayed, being an older brother himself he couldn't fathom how someone could intentionally hurt their younger siblings, he would have given anything to protect Thomas from harm and yet this 'Cole' had no problems in not only killing his parents, but also hurting his little sister who had been no more than a child at the time, not even in her adolescence yet.

"Your brother tried to kill you?" Porthos growled, he could feel the rage building inside him that, his dearest friend, someone he cared for deeply and would willing die or kill for, had been betrayed and hurt by one of the people who should have protected her from the worlds evils.

"Not me" Christelle vaguely answered, she was trying to ignore the fluttering within her at Porthos's anger – rationalizing that it was simply because he was her friend and that was why he had so much anger towards her brother, not for any other reason.

"What do you mean?" D'Artangan queried, if the brother had killed the parents wouldn't he have not stopped at killing his sister.

* * *

"He sold you didn't he?" Aramis spoke up for the first time in the discussion, his compassionate eyes meeting the tear-filled surprised gaze of Christelle as she nodded slowly at his statement, trying desperately to keep her composure as the memories assaulted her mind like a battering ram.

"He did WHAT!" Porthos growled fiercely, slavery was a touchy subject for the dark-skinned musketeer; his mother's tales of the old slave ships when he had been a small child had given the man nightmares that still persisted to this day. To learn that Christelle had been subjected to similar circumstances made his blood truly boil.

"I'm guessing he didn't quite have the heart to kill the small child that probably idolized him but needed her gone and out of the way" Aramis supplied when it became clear that the girl was having trouble continuing her story.

"Noble parents aren't often involved with their children" Athos added, nodding along with Aramis's train of thought "there wouldn't be such a strong bond between them" Pausing slightly in thought Athos turned back to the young woman "did our families meet at one time, is that why you knew who I was?" the question had been bugging the musketeer since she had mentioned it and now seemed as good a time as ever to find out the answer.

Smiling softly at the memory and the distraction from her sale, Christelle gave the musketeer a nod "both our families had been invited to a party, my father was eager to meet yours and it led to us all being introduced, you were there with a younger sibling I believe… I'm sorry for your loss"

The half smile that had graced the musketeer's face morphed into one of pain and confusion as the woman finished her tale. "I know the look of someone whose lost family" she supplied sadly, having noticed the change in the man's demeanor, "plus I might have researched Porthos's friends a tiny bit" she added with a small smirk.

"Really?" Aramis asked, clearly amused with this new development.

"Well I needed to know who Porthos was trusting his life to didn't I, besides I needed the peace of mind, he's all I've got left" she jested, turning slightly more serious by the end.

"And yet you didn't trust me with this!?" Porthos questioned, his tone hard and serious, instantly silencing anyone that wasn't Christelle from speaking.

"It wasn't that I didn't trust you… I do!" she sighed; shifting slightly under the force of the glare Porthos was sending her way.

"You set up a trap for your murderous brother who had no qualms with selling you into slavery, without coming to me for help… that really speaks volumes for how much trust you have in me"

"That wasn't why!" she desperately implored, oblivious to the concerned glances that were being shot their way by the other men as their argument increased in volume. "You know what he did to my family Port! I couldn't risk you being anywhere near him"

"Why? You know full well I can take care of myself" Bellowed Porthos, ignoring the pain in his throat that the action caused.

"Because I love you! You dumb idiot!" Christelle cried before removing herself from the bed and fleeing from the room, leaving a stunned Porthos staring at the spot on the bed she had previous occupied in shock.


	16. Feelings

**Evening My Lovelies :)**

**Bit of a fluffy chapter tonight but dont worry we will get back into whumpage soon :)**

**Thanks as always to the lovely people who follow/favourite/review this story you rock!**

**Enjoy**

**xxx**

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen: Feelings  
**

"Well that's one way to make an exit," Aramis whistled in appreciation moments after Christelle's announcement and exit.

Looking over to Porthos who was still looking somewhat shell-shocked by her admission Aramis could barely contain his smirk "You're not that surprised are you my friend? I've only known her for a couple of days and it's blatantly obvious what she feels for you"

Porthos's bemused expression was almost enough to send the sharpshooter into hysterics but luckily D'Artangan spoke first, "Is that why you did try to flirt with her at every opportunity?" he asked, a teasing tone evident in his voice.

"My dear Gascon" Aramis smirked, slinging his good arm over the young man's shoulders "One thing you need to know about women is that you can't woo a woman who has her heart firmly set on another"

"You're just saying that because she was immune to your attempts" Athos scoffed

"That too" shrugged Aramis, smiling softly at his brothers.

"I need to talk to her" Porthos spoke, shifting himself to the edge of the bed "she shouldn't be walking on that leg"

"I believe she was running not walking my friend," teased Aramis, undeniably enjoying seeing the large man flounder about. "And you're in no better condition to be up and about" he finished seriously, though he knew it would have little effect.

"Help me up?" Porthos asked Athos, seeming ignorant to Aramis's statement. After sending a quick look to the medic and receiving a nod in return, Athos stepped in front of the musketeer and helped get him to his feet.

Nodding his thanks to the man Porthos began to make his way to the door, intent on finding Christelle, only to be stopped by a laughing Aramis as he shouted "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Chuckling softly at his Spanish friend, Porthos left the room.

* * *

"He'll be okay right?" D'Artangan asked quietly, sounding much too young for the musketeer's liking.

"That depends on whether he's going to be honest with both himself and her I think" Aramis replied, his voice loosing the jesting tone as he contemplated his brother's position. Seeing the Gascon's confused face he continued "I'm not sure whether Porthos has even noticed that he has feelings for the young mademoiselle yet"

"Really?" D'Artangan interrupted sounding shocked at the notion "seems pretty obvious to me"

"Well some people can be blind to their own feelings until they're forced to address them" Athos commented sagely, sending the boy a knowing look in reference to his own feelings and denial of, for the young, married Constance.

"In any respect we simply have to wait for them to return"

"We're going to help Christelle with this plan of hers right?" D'Artangan questioned after a couple of moments of silence, he was not eager to let the girl pull off this trap of hers after hearing just whom she was trying to snare.

"Of course, regardless of what happens we owe her that much" Athos responded and the men settled down to wait for the return of their missing members.

* * *

Porthos found himself actually grateful that Christelle's injury meant she could not walk off too far as he had been unconscious on their arrival to the inn so had not had the chance to see just how big the place was or what surrounded it where a young woman might go to hide away from friends.

As it was he found her just outside the inn, breathing deeply and massaging her injured leg – which Porthos noted had started to bleed slightly and his heart clenched at the thought that he had driven her to even more pain.

"Chris" he began hesitantly, he truly had no idea how to handle a situation such as this, give him a fight or interrogation and he was fine… but a conversation involving talking about his feelings… that was something he was mightily unprepared for and lacked experience with.

Fortunately for him Christelle interrupted before he could think of anything to say further, "Look I know you don't feel the same, okay I do… I know you love Flea that it's always been and will always be Flea… That's fine I've accepted that…but…but please understand that I couldn't come to you because Cole will not hesitate to target you because of me and I…I just couldn't live with myself if anyone, **especially **you got hurt or worse because of my family problems" she ranted, no longer caring about containing the tears that were streaming down her face.

Porthos stood stunned as he listened to Christelle rant, his gaze softening when he noticed what she was playing with in her hands – it was the spyglass he had gotten her with his first set of wages from his commission in the musketeers. He'd managed to get it for cheap – the shop owner owing him a favour and had brought it for her in a cheesy attempt to cheer her up. Her nightmares of her past had resurfaced and he'd brought it telling her it was too help her 'look ahead,' a cheesy sentiment that had the desired effect of getting her to smile brightly at him.

"Surprised you still have that old thing" he commented, easing himself into a sitting position next to her.

"Reminded me of home… and of you while I was gone" she stated, deciding to no longer hide her feelings seeing as how she'd shouted them at him in a room full of his dearest brothers.

Silence reigned between them for several minutes as Porthos struggled to find the words to say to her and Christelle waited for the inevitable let down.

Deciding that he was no good with words in a situation such as this Porthos took a deep breath to steady himself – the action causing Christelle to look at him questioningly, before he raised one hand to cup her face and brought his own down to plant a deep kiss on her lips. The act surprised Christelle so much she didn't have time to respond before Porthos pulled away, smirking slightly at her expression.

"B…But you and Flea?" Christelle stammered out when she regained some of herself and Porthos couldn't help but think how cute she looked when she was all flustered.

"Flea and I have…" he paused thinking of the best way to describe it "enjoyed each other's company on occasion but there was never anything more to it than that."

"So you don't?"

"Do you need a repeat of earlier to answer that?" he asked smirking as her face turned a deeper shade of red. Though she got her revenge moments later when she eyed him coyly before saying "I might just" and leaning up to plant a kiss of her own on him – stunning him with her boldness for a few moments before he responding by deepening the kiss and tightening his hold on her, mentally smirking as he heard her moan faintly.

Pulling away for air the couple pressed their foreheads together and Porthos couldn't help but admire the beauty of the young woman in his arms. He had always found her attractive but never thought himself worthy of her, especially after learning that she originally came from a prominent noble family, whereas he was a simple street-rat who didn't even know who his father was.

It wasn't long before he felt the warmth coming from her and he remembered that she was still suffering from a fever, so was he but that didn't matter to him. "We should head back… You need to rest," he said resignedly as he took in how exhausted she still looked, the fever draining any energy she might have left.

"So do you!" Christelle whined as she used the wall to push herself up onto her feet, stumbling slightly as she put weight on her injured leg – only to be caught by Porthos. Smiling softly at him she lent slightly into his touch as they made the way back to the room – each of the planning how to deal with the teasing that would no doubt follow when they arrived.


	17. Plans

**Evening My Lovelies**

**I finally managed to finish the chapter i've been stuck on all week (not this one but not far off) so to celebrate we have 2 chapters tonight :D**

**Also 31 Reviews! you all rock love you! x**

**High-fives and Fist-bumps to everyone who follows/favourites/reviews this story**

**Enjoy**

**xxx**

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen: Plans  
**

Thankfully the new couple was spared any vulgar and jesting comments when they arrived due to the tiredness in both of their expressions that had both Athos and Aramis ordering them both to go straight to bed and to get some rest, an order that neither of them had any objections to and they were both asleep so quickly they did not see the Cheshire grins that laid on each of the men's faces as Porthos wrapped a protective arm around Christelle, pulling her so close to him she was practically on top of him.

"Looks like they had a good chat" D'Artangan commented quietly as to not wake up the sleeping couple.

"Oh they did more than chat" Aramis teased, having noticed their slightly swollen lips, turning to D'Artangan he made childish kissing noises to emphasize his point – to his further amusement, the young Gascon's cheeks turned slightly pink.

"Oh go to sleep you children" Athos chided fondly "if we're to make it to Paris tomorrow you both need your rest" he ordered before heading to the nest of blankets he'd made the night before.

"Yes sir" D'Artangan mock saluted as he shifted back into a laying position, barely containing a hiss of pain as the action aggravated his legs. Opening his eyes to the concerned look of Aramis he gave his friend a small smile and a nod, letting him know he was okay before relaxing into sleep.

"Sleep Aramis" called Athos moments later, apparently reading the medic's desire to check on their friends.

"I should really check on their injuries" the medic defended, steadying himself to move.

"Neither would have let the other sleep if their wounds were worse than before they left, you know this so sleep, you can check on them till you're hearts content in the morning" Athos ordered, smirking slightly when he heard the medic huff in resigned frustration at his logic before settling himself in the bed.

* * *

When morning broke Porthos was surprised to find himself to be the first one awake and he could barely contain the grin the threatened his face at the sight of the sleeping girl curled into his side.

He had never been one to think of commitments outside of the regiment, he was more than content to spend his years serving his King beside his brothers until death, injury or old age stopped him, but now, looking at Christelle beside him, he began to think about the possibilities of what having someone outside the regiment would mean, and was pleasantly surprised to find that he wasn't completely against the notion.

"You know some women find it creepy when people watch them sleep" came an amused voice, startling Porthos from his thoughts as he lifted his gaze to meet the smiling Aramis.

"Glad to know you were honest with her" the marksman mused fondly as he watched the tenderness his brother displayed toward the sleeping girl in his arms "I like her, she has spunk" he said with a grin.

"We leaving for Paris today?" Porthos asked, not missing the growing smirk on his brother's face as he tried to change the topic. Thankfully the medic didn't question him further and simply nodded before explaining their travel plans to him.

* * *

Each man simply enjoyed the quiet reassurance of each others company for several minutes before Porthos spoke up, his tone deadly serious "I'm not going to let her face her brother alone, no matter what hair-brained scheme she has planned for him"

"We gathered as much, neither will we" D'Artangan reassured sleepily, having awoken just as Porthos began to speak again and the gratitude they all saw in Porthos's eyes warmed their hearts.

The three men passed the time in casual conversation as they waited for the remaining two people to awaken. They were keen to return to Paris but none were willing to wake the sleeping parties; Athos mainly as the man was decidedly not a morning person and his mood was always worse if woken up by someone else and Christelle as they all knew that the girl had expended all of her energy caring for them over the past couple of days and that wasn't even covering the lack of sleep she'd suffered before then.

It didn't take too long for the swordsman to awaken and he was swiftly sent on a hunt for breakfast as D'Artangan couldn't walk, Aramis was limited to only one arm and Porthos had a sleeping girl tucked into his arms. Grumbling about lazy good-for-nothing brother's Athos left the room, pointedly ignoring the chuckles that erupted from his brother's at his morning grouchiness.

Christelle only woke when Porthos had shifted slightly in the aim of getting out of bed to eat breakfast at the table.

"Had a nice sleep?" jested Aramis, causing her face to flush bright red as she realized she was still in Porthos's arms – the musketeer having frozen his movements as she stirred.

Deciding not to give into the Spaniards teasing she rose from the bed and headed to the table, smirking as she passed him, coyly stating "the best I've had for a while," ignoring the burst of laughter that erupted from the medic at that statement.

Light banter flowed between them as they ate their morning meal, only to stop when Athos, serious as ever, turned to Christelle "We wish to help you with your brother" he started, raising his hand to silence the woman when she looked about to protest "After everything you have done for us we would like the opportunity to repay you. If you could tell us your plan we can decide how best to aid you." He finished, his tone allowing for no argument.

Christelle sensed that there would be no persuading the men from helping her regardless of what she told them, on the outside she projected an air of frustration at their stubbornness but, inside she was deeply touched that they would be willing to risk helping her. "When I learnt that it was Cole that was behind my parent's death" she started, avoiding the topic of his acts against her, "I decided to force a meet between the two of us. Cole's largely gone underground, especially in the last few years due to his growing criminal activities so it was difficult to find anyone who could pass on the message… so instead I started a rumor that a member of his family was alive and asking questions. I had to go to some pretty sleazy taverns to spread the information to people who might actually have connections to him but I persisted" she said with a shrug.

"Surely knowing you're onto him would only give him time to prepare" D'Artangan questioned in between mouthfuls of bread.

"I knew that he would have no idea that I was even still alive as the slavers that he sold me to were all dead and I've never given my last name to anyone… I dropped in the fact that I would be staying in a little shack just outside of Paris so he would know where to find me. Cole would come to me alone, not wanting his associates to know that he failed to successfully get rid of an eight year old girl, he has always underestimated me and since I had a great teacher-" she motioned to Porthos, pride and love shining in her eyes "-I'm confident that I can handle him."

"You want to kill him?" Athos questioned as he took in all the facts of her plan. It was simple in its design but it relied solely on her brother staying true to her expectations and arriving alone, all it would take is for him to arrive with back up and she was a dead woman – something that would devastate his brother.

"No I don't want him dead!" Christelle replied horrified, although she did understand why they would presume that so she calmed herself before replying "Unlike him, I don't think I have it in me to kill family. I had planned to get my information out of him before turning him over to the musketeers to face justice for all the crimes he has committed.

Nodding in acceptance of her answer the men began to deliberate just how they could insert themselves effectively into her plan, without hindering her chances of getting justice and answers.

Once they had a plan they began to pack up their things ready for the journey back to Paris – D'Artangan and Porthos would remain in the wagon as neither was in the best condition to be riding while Athos, Aramis and Christelle would ride, with strong promises to force the medic into the wagon if riding put too much strain on his injuries.

Setting off Christelle found herself feeling more relaxed then she had felt in months and couldn't contain the grin that graced her face as she rode next to the wagon on Porthos's side.


	18. Treville

**Hello Again Loyal Readers :)**

**Here's tonight's second chapter - bit Treville focused but we're getting close to some drama so please stick with me :)**

**Thanks as always to followers/favouriters/reviewers**

**Enjoy**

**xxx**

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen: Treville  
**

The trip back to the garrison was slow going, the party had to make frequent stops to keep the injured dosed up with pain relievers – much to their annoyance.

Each member breathed a sigh of relief as they passed through the garrison's gates, only to be stopped dead in their tracks by a furious Treville.

"What happened" the Captain growled as he took in the condition of his three best men and his most promising recruit, as well as the woman who traveled with them.

"Captain Treville" Christelle spoke, her back straight in the saddle looking every bit the noble daughter she was born to be, barring her torn clothing. "If you would permit me to debrief you as to the details of what happened, these men could do with being seen by a proper trained physician"

Treville was quiet whilst he looked over his men, both D'Artangan and Porthos had been forced to travel in a wagon – he could only imagine what injuries they must have that forced them into that position. A glance at the group's medic spoke volumes as to his own injuries, the usually vibrant Spaniard was pale and his face was tight with pain that he was doing his best to hide. Turning his gaze to his lieutenant he could easily read the surprise on his face that the woman had opted to fill him in on the details and let him rest instead. Treville could see the lines of pain around his lieutenant's face and had no doubts he was injured as well.

Nodding to the young girl he gestured to his office before informing his men that Doctor Monroe was in the infirmary and none of them were to leave said infirmary without his express say so.

* * *

Inside Treville's office Christelle waited until a chair was offered before she sat down, and then again until the Captain spoke first before she answered any of his questions.

"I take it your information regarding this 'Marcel's' involvement was correct?" Treville questioned as he scrutinized the woman before him.

"Yes" Christelle confirmed, subconsciously pulling up her torn shirt to sit better on her shoulder "We managed to infiltrate the manor house he and his men were hold up in without much difficulty but we were separated and Marcel's men were expecting us"

"Injuries?" Treville questioned, he had seen evidence of the wounds his men wore but each was covered up by bandages so he had no idea as to the severity of said wounds.

"D'Artangan has two stab wounds, one to each leg – they have been cleaned, stitched and bandaged, providing attention is paid to ensure no infection sets in he should make a full recovery" Christelle started, not noticing the dark look gracing the Captains face at the mention of his men's injuries, "Marcel shot Aramis in the back, it was touch and go for a while as he developed a slight infection. However the good nights rest he managed at the in seems to have done him as world of good as, as you can see he managed the ride back today without having to be forced into the wagon." She explained with a smirk, "Athos got off the lightest in terms of damage, he has a broken hand that's been splinted and will need several weeks to properly heal. He also suffered a mild concussion as well as a dislocated knee."

"And Porthos?"

"We were able to reach the house before Marcel had time to do any lasting damage to him but…"

"But?" Treville pressed, not liking her hesitation

"He was badly whipped sir, as well as suffering several broken ribs and a slight fever he, so far, has been unable to shake."

"They'll all heal?" Treville asked after several moments, smiling slightly when the girl scoffed at him "Of course they'll heal, I saw to them myself after all"

"You?" he asked surprised

"I have knowledge and experience in handling wounds" she shrugged "and the resident medic wasn't in any way able to treat any of them"

"Then it seems I owe you the lives of my men mademoiselle" Treville said with the utmost respect as he bowed his head.

"They have agreed to help me with a personal matter as repayment" she said hesitantly, unsure as to how their Captain would take the news "It is something I can handle on my own if you would rather they not be involved."

"My men owe you their lives mademoiselle, whatever they decided to do to help you is something the entire regiment will honor"

"I… Thank you Captain" Christelle mumbled, her gratefulness evident in her voice. "Though I suppose I should inform you of exactly what they have promised"

Christelle then launched into the tale of her parent's death and brother's betrayal and the promise those men made to help her bring him to justice and provide her with long awaited answers. During her tale Treville sat quietly as he diligently listened to the woman's story, interrupting only when necessary and withholding any judgment or comments until she had finished.

"How long do you need to set everything up?" Treville asked once full details had been provided.

"Cole already has the location so I would only need to drop the occasional rumor that I'm back in Paris to get his attention, I strongly doubt he will wait long before coming for me."

"And you're perfectly okay with this? This plan puts you in the most danger"

Smile softly at the Captain's concern Christelle spoke "I am safer now that you're best have offered their unexpected aid, but fear not I will not put the plan into action until they are sufficiently healed"

* * *

In the infirmary Athos and the doctor were almost at their wits ends trying to corral the three 'children' that Athos called brothers.

Upon entering the building Aramis had instantly tried to play off his injuries, deciding instead that he needed to check on the others first. Normally this would be nothing to be concerned with but when he tried to check on D'Artangan – the Gascon's patience at an all time low thanks to the pain radiating throughout his legs, the Spaniard somehow ended up in a verbal fight with the boy, that reminded Athos of a time when Thomas and he would argue as children, with Porthos watching on in amusement, offering only the occasional comment.

Suddenly a shrill whistle pierced the air and all four men turned to face a grinning Christelle and an irate Treville.

"You're all such children" Christelle jested as she made her way to sit beside Porthos on his bed, the pain in her leg acting up causing her to limp slightly which did not go unnoticed by any of the men in the room.

"You're hurt?" Treville asked, not entirely sure whether he should be surprised that she didn't mention any injures on her person earlier or not.

"Cut to the back of my leg, nothing to be concerned with" she answered with a shrug, leaning back into Porthos's touch slightly as he placed a hand on her lower back – the act causing Treville to send a questioning look to the rest of them and simply receiving a knowing smile in return.

"How on Earth did you manage to cut the back of your leg?" the doctor exclaimed as he made his way over to look at it, regardless of her attempts to shrug him off.

The men in the room went silent at that as they realized that they actually had no idea how she had been injured, as one they turned their questioning gaze on the young woman who was doing her best not to squirm under the weight of their stares.

"I was trying to get my dagger out of my boot, but I was pinned so I couldn't move my leg and ended up cutting it as I drew my weapon" she answered shyly, refusing to look at any of them. Although feeling Porthos tense up behind her she was quick to take his hand to reassure him that she was okay.

Sensing they were heading into difficult territory Captain Treville was quick to order his men to get some rest before ushering Christelle out of the infirmary, promising her the use of a spare bed while her leg healed.


	19. Calm Before The Storm

**Evening my lovelies :)**

**First off sorry bout no update yesterday. I had it all ready to go and was doing one final read through when i realised that the 2nd half made absolutely no sense and was really really bad so decided to re-write it**

**Hopefully its better now :)**

**Thank you so very much for all the lovely comments and reviews you've all sent me - they make me feel all warm and gooey inside lol xxx**

**I have the rest of this story all planned out - the ending of which im really looking forward to writing :D**

**Anyways enough of my sugar filled rambles... Enjoy**

**xxx**

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen: Calm before the storm  
**

Weeks passed as the musketeers healed from their ordeal at Marcel's hands.

Athos was the first to be allowed back onto general duty, much to the chagrin of his brothers who were clearly developing a case of cabin fever as the days progressed and they were unable to leave or take part on light duty.

Treville was extremely grateful for Christelle during this time as the woman was focused on ensuring Porthos's recovery was as quick and entertaining as possible and this had the added benefit of providing amusement for the other two convalescing men as they watched their brother and new found friend settle into their new relationship.

Aramis's constant teasing and borderline vulgar comments were enough to keep the banter flowing freely between the group whenever the couple was present. The Spaniard had also taken it as a personal mission to get Athos, D'Artangan and even to some extent Treville involved in the teasing.

The Gascon had been the easiest to entice and between them they made a deadly pair, silently starting a competition between themselves as to who could get the biggest reaction out of their targets – be it a verbal one or emotional.

Athos had been trickier to persuade, as the serious musketeer was keen to simply watch and to allow his brother to enjoy his new relationship and the time with the woman who obviously made him happy. That was not to say the senior musketeer was immune to the medic's attempts and did end up joining in on the odd occasion, much to the embarrassment of the couple and the greatest amusement of his other two brothers.

Captain Treville had been by far the most difficult to get involved but even the gruff Captain joined in occasionally.

D'Artangan was the next to be allowed back onto duty – his youth and lack of infection or fever aiding in the speed of his recovery. He did try to help alleviate the Spaniard's boredom, as Porthos had threated to request a different room if the medic's teasing did not stop, by asking him to tutor him in Spanish. It was during this time that the group learnt two things. One – that D'Artangan was a rubbish student when it came to learning anything unrelated to battle or combat and Two – that Christelle spoke Spanish, this excited the sharpshooter enormously and the two would occasionally joke about their companions in Spanish whilst they looked on, thoroughly bemused.

Both Aramis and Porthos were allowed back on light duty at the same time and each made a beeline for their trademark activities that first night, having been absent for so long, so when the medic was late and the fighter was several livre's richer, as well as sporting a slight black eye, the following morning their brothers and Christelle were not the least bit surprised.

* * *

Almost a month after Marcel, each of the musketeers had been declared well enough to return to full duty and Christelle felt confident enough to bring up their agreement to help her get her answers.

"I've heard rumors Cole's arrived in Paris" she announced one day at breakfast as she slid in next to Porthos – the woman had become a recurring feature over the last month that none of the passing musketeers even spared her a glance – she had saved the lives of several of their best and in the last month had aided in their investigations by using her information network to run down leads and collect information.

"Does he know you're here?" Porthos asked, his concern for the small woman practically radiating out of him. He still did not like this plan, he still remembered the condition Christelle had been in when he and Flea had found her all those years ago and he was not eager to put the woman back into the line of fire.

"Not yet" Christelle answered, gently squeezing Porthos's hand "I know where to go to drop that bit of information though"

"So where are we going?" Aramis enquired cheerfully although he had a strong idea as to what was about to follow.

"We" Christelle emphasized, "are going nowhere, you will only bring added attention, I know what I'm doing" the woman said with a sense of finality, stilling any protests from the men.

* * *

Porthos had grown increasingly agitated as the hours dragged on and Christelle still remained gone. It had taken the collective efforts of his brothers to stop him from following after her the second she had left, and now four hours later even they were running out of reasons to keep him at the garrison.

"I don't like this" he growled for the third time in the last hour alone, causing an irritated huff to escape from the medic.

"She knows what she's doing Porthos" he reassured, though it lacked any real conviction, "I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation as to where she is"

"He found her… I just know it" he said brokenly and Athos's heart broke for his brother, it was obvious just how much he cared for the small woman and Athos knew that if anything happened to her, he would be forever destroyed for it.

"Then lets go and find out," Athos said, rising to his feet and grabbing his hat "Do you know where she went?"

Not trusting himself to speak, Porthos simply nodded – it had been his requirement to let her out of his sight that he knew where she was going. That's why he was so concerned, the place wasn't too far, a thirty-minute walk round trip at best.

"Hey Porthos!" called one of the musketeers returning from his evening patrol, "This belongs to your girl don't it?" he asked innocently, raising his arm as he spoke to show the men – who were still descending the steps outside Athos's rooms, the small beaten object in his hand.

Porthos felt like his heart had stopped. Held securely in the musketeer's hand, was Christelle's spyglass.


	20. Determination

**Evening again loyal readers :)**

**I had so much fun writing this one I just couldn't not upload it for you all so I hope you like it**

**Thanks as ever to followers/favouriters/reviews xxx**

**Enjoy**

**xxx**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty: Determination  
**

Just step and breathe

That was the mantra kept up by the shadowed figure as she grit her teeth in determination, refusing to give in to the demands of her body.

Just step and breathe…

* * *

Aramis was extremely concerned as he watched his brother exhaust himself looking for their missing friend and lover.

It had been almost a week since Christelle had been taken and Porthos had been working himself into the ground trying to find her – even returning to the Court of Miracles in the hopes of persuading it's new Queen – Flea, to put her own feelers out.

The woman had agreed almost immediately when she was told who the missing person was, but even with the addition of the Court, information was still minimal at best. It would appear that whoever took Christelle was able to take her without anyone seeing anything.

Every day that went by with no new clues or leads was another day that the inseparables were forced to watch their brother descend further down a very dark road that would destroy him if they didn't find her soon.

* * *

So close!

The woman cursed the torture that she was so close to her destination but still so far from it. Even the simple act of breathing was excruciating and if she didn't get there soon she doubted that she ever would.

Gritting her teeth she forced herself to push aside the morbid thoughts plaguing her and continued onwards.

Just step and breathe...

* * *

"Anything?" Aramis asked quietly as he looked up at D'Artangan and Athos when they returned from chasing down a lead.

"Nothing" grumbled the Gascon "Another dead end" he hated feeling so incompetent. During her time in the Garrison D'Artangan had grown close to Christelle, their closeness in ages and same sense of humor and keenness for mischief created a bond similar to siblings and the young Gascon felt her loss just as deeply as he felt the guilt for returning with no news.

"How did you get him to sleep" Athos asked intrigued as he looked upon the sleeping form of their brother. With every day that went by with no new Porthos had become more focused on finding her and those responsible, forgoing the needs of his body such as food and sleep.

"I had help" the medic smirked, though there was an air of sadness behind it, as he lifted a half empty bottle of wine.

"You drugged him!" D'Artangan asked, shocked that Aramis had done it but not surprised that it had reached that stage

"He needed the rest, he's no good to anyone… especially her as worn down as he was" the medic defended but he could see in their eyes that they did not disagree with his actions, they were merely sad that it had reached that stage.

"Let's review everything we've learned so far" Athos said, standing to collect a bottle of wine he hoped the medic hadn't drugged, "maybe we missed something"

* * *

Just a little more, almost there

The woman could see her target in the distance, the relief of making it almost bringing tear to her eyes but instead she refused to give into the relief until she had walked through the gates.

Just a little bit more

Just step and breathe…

* * *

"Porthos see reason!" the medic cried as he followed the large musketeer out of the room and down towards the courtyard, ignoring the attention they had attracted.

"Reason?" Porthos growled, turning on his heels to face his friend, anger and hurt warring for dominance in his eyes " 'Mis you drugged me while Chris is out there alone!"

"It was that or wait for you to collapse. She wouldn't want that for you" the sharpshooter pleaded

"DON'T…. Just don't, you don't know a damn thing about her"

"You're right I don't" the medic conceded before his eyes turned hard and cold "but I do know how much she loves you and because of that I know that she would give anything not to see you hurt or in pain so excuse me for acting on that"

"Enough!" Athos yelled when it became apparent that the men were seconds away from attacking each other.

"Do the pair of you want to continue this fight or would you like to know what me and D'Artangan have learnt?"

"You found something?" the hope in Porthos's voice was enough to break through to the medic and the man was quick to slid in beside the large musketeer in silent show of support as they awaited the news from their brothers.

"It's not much" Athos warned, not wishing to get Porthos's hopes up with the tidbit of information they had finally discerned.

"But it's something" D'Artangan explained, understanding that Porthos needed hope now, no matter how small that hope might be.

"Well?" the musketeer growled impatiently.

"We went back to the tavern Christelle was last at" D'Artangan explained "the owner mentioned before that one of his serving girls who had been there that night had since left Paris briefly to pay her respects at her family's graves as it was the one year anniversary."

The pair then went on to explain how they had gone back to see if she had returned and had any additional information to give them.

As it turned out the woman did remember a couple of men watching the missing woman intently the whole time she was in the tavern. The barmaid had found their attention quite creepy and had discreetly told the woman about them. She then stated that the girl had paled slightly before paying and abruptly leaving. The tavern had been quite busy at this point so it took a little while before she noticed that the men had left as well.

"Was she able to describe these men?" Aramis asked at the end of their tale.

"She was, we made a stop on our way back to give the information to Flea's people. They have the best chance of finding them, we were about to inform Treville before you're little spat detoured us" Athos informed them.

"PORTHOS!" called a panicked voice at the garrison gates.

Spinning in his seat Porthos felt his heart stop as, in the arms of one of his musketeer brothers lay the beaten, bloody and alarmingly pale body of Christelle.


	21. Injured

**Evening my lovelies**

**Can i just say that i LOVE all the reviews you've all sent me it makes writing this story so much more fun :D**

**I did feel slightly evil with this chapter with everything i've done to the poor girl.**

**Thanks to followers/favouriters/reviews**

**Enjoy**

**xxx**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-One: Injured  
**

Aramis was the first one to react to the sight in front of them, his medic training surging into overdrive as he sprinted to the young girl's side, his eyes quickly scanning her body for wounds and injuries. Unfortunately though she was covered in so much blood it was nigh on impossible to tell what was the cause.

"She collapsed just outside the garrison gates," the musketeer holding her explained, although Aramis heard none of it as his entire focus was on the bleeding girl.

"We need to get her to the infirmary now" he ordered, the seriousness of his voice telling the men everything they needed to know about the gravity of the girl's condition.

* * *

"I'll let Treville know what's happened" the musketeer explained once he had place Christelle on the infirmary bed, leaving the inseparables to work in peace.

"I need water and cloth" Aramis snapped, not bothering to worry about politeness or bedside manor "We need to clean off all this blood before I can even tell what needed fixing"

Athos and D'Artangan leapt into action straight away with one darting to the well for water with the other to the cabinets where cloths and bandages were kept.

"Porthos" Aramis called; startling the man from his staring "If you want me to try and save her then I cant be worried about you" the medic spoke, his voice once again taking its hard edge "if you can't handle this I need you to leave"

"I'm good 'Mis" Porthos mumbled after several moments "what do you need me to do?"

Smiling sadly at his brother Aramis knew the man was anything but good but had little time to call him out on it what with the girl bleeding out on the bed behind him

"Help me clean off this blood and let me know what injuries you find" the medic instructed as D'Artangan returned with two buckets of water and Athos passed them all cloths so they could begin.

* * *

It was slow going for a while and Aramis's raged internally when he noticed that some of the blood was dried and crusty, meaning she had been in this state for some time.

"Her feet are covered in cuts" D'Artangan called out as he finished wiping the blood and dirt from them. He wasn't overly surprised given that she hadn't been wearing any shoes when she arrived – he had no idea just how long she had been walking but it must have been a while considering the appalling state of her feet. The Gascon looked at his sleeping friend with pitying eyes as he realized that it would be some time before she would even be able to stand, let alone walk, without being in pain.

"Do they need stitching?" the medic called in response, without taking his attention from stitching up a particularly nasty gash on the girl's face, near her eye. He willed his hands to remain steady, he really did not want to be the reason the girl had a garish scar lining her face.

"They don't look that deep, I'll just clean and wrap them"

"Should we be worried she aint woken yet?" Porthos queried hesitantly as he bandaged a cut on Christelle's leg.

"Judging by the amount of blood she lost I would be surprised if she woke up any time soon

* * *

They continued with this system for hours as they worked, each person calling out injuries as they found them and Aramis inspecting each of them before instructing them how to take care of it.

Most of the injuries were shallow, no doubt intended to cause pain and not death, but being left untended to for so long many had shown signs of being infected.

The medic had remained composed throughout, despite having the knowledge that the girl had clearly been tortured for several days at the very least. But what awaited the group when they turned her to look at her back had him damning the girl's brother to the deepest, darkest depths of hell.

On the girl's left shoulder blade was a heavily infected burn… a brand, in the shape of the letter 'C'

"Bastard branded her like cattle!" Porthos roared as he struggled to contain the urge burning within him to punch something or someone…repeatedly.

"Is there anything we can do about it?" D'Artangan asked, frantically hoping the medic would know of something, the poor girl already carried too many scars from her hard life and he hated the knowledge that she would now carry yet another reminder.

"No" the medic replied sadly as he took in the burnt skin "it's too deep a burn, its also badly infected I'm going to have to make something for it."

"I'm gonna kill that bastard!" Porthos growled, anger and rage burning intensely in his eyes.

"Not tonight you're not" Aramis replied off-handedly when it looked like Porthos was about to leave "she needs you here tonight more than you need revenge"

* * *

As if one cue it was at the end of that statement that a pained whimper escaped Christelle as she began to show signs of being trapped in a nightmare.

Porthos doubted he'd ever moved as fast as he did at that sound, he was back down beside her head, one hand grasped tightly in his own as he whispered soothing words in a desperate attempt to help calm her.

Thankfully Christelle seemed to settle at Porthos's words, although the musketeer was loathed to let go of her hand after that.

With Christelle once again calm Aramis was able to continue tending to the injuries that marred the young woman's skin. Like her front, most of her wounds were shallow although he did find several broken ribs as well as a cracked shoulder blade that he only noticed when the unconscious woman flinched when he touched it.

The woman was also covered in a litany of bruises of varying intensities, the ones that marred her face were some of the worst, with one eye completely black and swollen shut and the other a dark blue. The medic knew that the girl would be in a lot of pain simply from the bruises for a while as they covered more of her body then the knife wounds did.

He forced away the pitying and revenge filled thoughts, choosing instead to do everything in his power to ease the girl's pain and save her life. Christelle did not need his sympathy or pity, what she needed was his skills and that was exactly what he would give her.

It was many hours later before Aramis felt he had done all he could for the woman, although he did feel compelled to let Porthos and his brothers know that she was still very weak from blood loss and the various infected wounds she had, and that they would have to monitor her very carefully and keep on top of changing poultices and tending to her fever or they could lose her.


	22. Waking Up

**Hello again loyal readers**

**We're almost at the end of this story and I cant thank you enough for sticking with me. I'm hoping you'll all stick around for the last couple of chapters.**

**Thanks to all followers/favouriters/reviewers**

**Enjoy**

**xxx**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Waking Up  
**

Pain

Every part of her body hurt and her mind longed to return to the blissful oblivion of unconsciousness, but there was a voice. A voice that encompassed safety, love and family. The voice was calling to her, begging her to open her eyes, the brokenness of the voice hurt her more than any pain she had ever endured, it was wrong and a small, lucid part of her brain recognized that it was because of her that the voice sounded the way it did.

She tried to open her eyes, she really did but her eyelids felt a heavy as stone and the struggle quickly drained her of any remaining energy and she felt her body slip, once again, into unconsciousness.

* * *

Sighing in frustration Porthos returned to pacing the room. Moments earlier Christelle had shown signs of waking and he tried to rouse her further by calling and talking to her. He had let hope blossom within him as she seemed to react to his words, but just a quickly as the signs had come they disappeared, snuffing out his hope with them.

The musketeer had sent his brothers away an hour ago; he'd seen the exhaustion in Aramis, the medic having given his all to save Christelle's life, he'd seen the weariness in D'Artangan and Athos as they had spent the last week racing around Paris with him, chasing down any and every lead as to Christelle's whereabouts. Aramis had reassured him that he had done everything he could and it was now down to Christelle's will to fight – at which Athos had actually snorted and reminded them that the girl had once ran through the entirety of Paris to warn them about Marcel, and that was with an injured ankle, there was no way she was giving up easily.

Porthos had smiled at that and not a forced one that he had put on during the week for his brother's benefit – they'd seen straight through it of course but had decided not to mention it.

So after sending his brother's away to get some rest – and receiving instruction to wake Aramis should anything change, Porthos had settled down beside her, determined to keep a vigil over her, just as she had done for him almost two months ago.

He could feel the tiredness niggling at him but he steadfastly ignored it, refusing to rest until Christelle woke up.

He thought she was going to several times but quickly realized she was actually in the throws of another nightmare and he had immediately tried to soothe her. The nightmares were almost as worrisome as her injuries as they kept her body from getting the rest it so clearly needed and they seemed to be growing in intensity, causing her to thrash more and more, pulling at her stitches and jarring her broken bones.

"…P'Thos?" whispered a hoarse voice from the bed, stilling the musketeer's pacing instantly.

"Chris!" the large musketeer exclaimed happily, the joy of seeing her awake was radiating out of him like the light from the sun, "You're awake!"

Christelle tried to smile at her musketeer, knowing that she had probably been gone a while and that she no doubt looked like death warmed over, unfortunately it ended up looking more like a grimace, but Porthos didn't mind, she was awake – that was all that mattered and he wasted no time in pressing a deep, passionate kiss onto her lips, smirking as the woman squeaked in surprise before responding in kind despite the aggravation to her injuries.

"How long?" she asked weakly once she had regained her breath after the kiss

"A week" Porthos replied, knowing exactly what she was asking, his guilt at not finding her had returned with a vengeance when he saw her try to hide just how much her injuries were paining her and when he saw just how much she had to concentrate just to stay awake.

"Huh" she responded tiredly as she struggled to keep her traitorous eyes open "felt like longer"

It took every ounce of control he had not to lose it right then, instead he softened his expression and took her hand "get some sleep, I'll be right here" smiling softly as she nuzzled his other hand that had cupped her cheek before giving into her body's demand for rest.

* * *

"And how's our patient doing this morning?" Aramis asked brightly as he entered the infirmary, smirking at the sight of his brother, asleep with his back against the wall and his hand clutching Christelle's.

Performing a quick check of her wounds while Porthos woke himself up, Aramis felt himself relax as he saw positive signs with the infected wounds.

"She woke up for a bit," the musketeer mumbled as he rubbed away traces of sleep from his eyes.

"Really!" D'Artangan beamed as he entered, accompanied by a rather sour looking Athos. Porthos would have been concerned if it weren't his friend's usual state of being when awake at such an early hour – if anything it was actually a reassuring sight.

"She's awake now as well," Aramis noticed, smiling fondly as an embarrassed blush flushed the woman's cheeks as she opened her eyes.

"Bit…hard to sleep…with lover-boy poking me" she jested weakly, reveling in the warm smiles her comment gained her from the men.

"I'm not poking!" Aramis replied indignantly "I'm checking your wounds"

"Really?" Christelle teased in mock surprise "feels like poking…to me"

A hearty laugh from the entrance drew everyone's attention and the new arrival pulled a tired smile from the injured girl "Treville" she called sleepily as she raised her less injured arm slightly to usher the man into the room.

Before she had gone missing she and Treville had grown close as he reminded her very much of her deceased father – he was gruff and stoic at times but had a warmth within him that was reserved solely for the men under his command, and even then it only came out when they were injured or in trouble. He had been extremely welcoming to her and went out of his way to make her feel safe within the garrison.

Treville himself had seen the change around the garrison since she arrived, particularly for his four best men. Porthos was the happiest he'd ever seen and had significantly cut down the time he spent cheating at cards or engaging in bar brawls, choosing instead to spend time with Christelle.

D'Artangan and Christelle had gotten along famously, quickly becoming close. She had been giving him advice with the situation with the Gascon's love life, teaching him about the different signals a woman could send to get a man's attention – something Aramis had once tried to educate him in but with a much more vulgar explanation. As such the boy's confidence around the fairer sex had grown and he in turn had her joining him in the pranks he occasionally played on his brothers – their combined speed and stealth made them a deadly combination and he had often been pulled from his office by the annoyed shouts of their latest victim.

Athos's change had been subtle but the Captain had noticed that his lieutenant seemed more relaxed and smiled more when the girl was present. And Aramis, well the flirtatious Spaniard had taken it upon himself to become a protector of sorts for the young woman and was the first one, besides Porthos, to defend her when anyone – particularly Red Guards, acted inappropriately towards her. The pair had also spent many hours sharing their knowledge of the healing arts with each other.

During times when the men had been out on short missions Treville had been the one to keep Christelle company, having found that the girl had a love of chess he had invited her to play and the pair could spend hours playing and discussing random subjects – Christelle finding it incredibly easy to open up with the gruff Captain.

He had been extremely concerned when the girl had disappeared and offered the group as much aid searching for her as he could, taking them off the duty roster for the week to allow them time to search. When he had found out the girl's condition when she returned he was sick to his stomach and had been prepared to personally pay for a physician if Aramis felt it was required. To see the girl awake – if beginning to fade, and teasing he felt the tension he'd been carrying melt away as took her hand, squeezing it softly.

"We'll need to talk" Treville spoke seriously, keeping his eyes focused on Christelle until she sighed in mock frustration before nodding slightly "get some rest first, I think we'd all prefer it if you didn't fall asleep during your explanation.


	23. Revenge

**Evening my lovelies**

**Well here we are the final two chapters! **

**This story has been so much fun to write and a large part of that is because of the lovely reviews i've gotten from everyone so thank you for that.**

**I wrote little prompts for myself during the latter part of this story - most were at least a couple of lines but this one was simply Porthos gets revenge mwhahaha **

**Enjoy**

**xxx**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Revenge  
**

It was three days until Christelle was able to stay awake for more than a couple of minutes at a time. During this time Aramis lost count of the amount of times he had reassured Porthos that it was simply because of the blood-loss that she lacked the energy to stay awake.

Porthos had been struggling to reframe from tearing Paris apart to find Cole and it was only the constant presence of at least one of his brothers that kept him grounded.

"Do you feel up for telling us what happened Christelle?" Treville asked as he stood at the foot of the bed, his tone was serious but with a hint of the calming paternal tone Christelle had come to associate with the man.

"I guess so" she replied hesitantly before trying to push herself into a seating position, only to then hiss in pain when the movement aggravated both her shoulders.

"Easy now" Aramis soothed as he helped sit her up "they're going to be sore for a while now"

"No leaving half way through though okay?" Christelle teased, ignoring the medic's comment as she stared a Porthos until he nodded in confirmation.

"Well I went to the tavern as planned, it's a popular one for lowlifes that might have been able to pass on the message to Cole. I was able to drop the occasional hint to a few of the patrons before the barmaid told me about a couple of men that were watching me." Athos nodded at this, it corroborated the information that they had received from their own questioning of the barmaid, "that's when I knew things had gone wrong and that I needed to get out. I managed to get a decent distance and actually started to think that I had lost them when suddenly everything went dark – I guess there must have been more of them hiding in the alley I passed, either that or they knew a shortcut."

Aramis frowned at the knowledge that the woman had suffered multiple head injuries in such a short space of time but was quick to remove it from his face when her gaze flickered to him.

"Next thing I know I'm waking up in a cellar of some kind and right in front of me, looking no different then he did all those years ago was Cole." Christelle shuddered at the memory and Porthos was quick to squeeze her hand to calm her.

"He then started asking me all these questions about; how was I still alive? How did I find him? Who else did I tell about him? When I refused to speak he took to doing this" she explained, raising her arms to show the bandages that covered a multitude of long, shallow cuts.

Porthos made a sound in his throat that resembled a feral growl, so low that only Christelle was able to hear it and she smiled softly as she returned his earlier squeeze, trying to remind her musketeer that, although wounded, she was alive, free and back with him.

"Most of the time I was left alone, I think Cole's in Paris for some sort of business deal" she informed them before a yawn interrupted her "When he was there he would either continue his questioning or be ranting about why he was doing what he did"

"He gave you the answers you've been looking for?" D'Artangan queried, hoping that, after everything she had endured, that she had at least been given the answers she sought.

"Not sure he realized that he was giving me them but yeah" she answered, a tired smile appearing on her face.

"Anyways after one of his interrogation sessions I noticed that he hadn't secured the shackles properly so I was able to get away, then it was a simple matter of figuring out how to get back here"

Every single one of the men noticed that Christelle had purposely ignored parts of her story – such as how she came to be branded, or how her shoulder got cracked but they could also see just how much it had taken her to tell them what she had already so they collectively decided not to mention it.

"Do you remember where you were being held" Athos asked as he took in the clearly tiring woman, they would have to wrap this up soon or she was going to fall asleep on them.

"It was an empty tavern," Christelle answered after searching her brain for several moments "I don't remember the name of it but it looked like it hadn't been open for business in some time and had stained glass window, like the ones you'd find in a church."

D'Artangan perked up at this snippet of information "how long did it take you to get here?"

"A while" Christelle admitted "but I wasn't exactly going fast… probably at least two hours at a shuffle." She answered, raising an eyebrow at the pleased look that had graced the Gascon's face.

"I think I know the place" D'Artangan exclaimed, before a small blush coloured his cheeks, much to the bemusement of the rest of the group "I went for a walk a couple of months ago and got a bit turned around but I remember passing a boarded up tavern that had stain glass windows."

"You could find it again?" Porthos questioned, a feral grin gracing his face at the prospect of getting revenge.

"Definitely"

"Right" Treville ordered, gaining the full attention of everyone in the room, "Aramis is going to do one last check of Christelle's wounds" raising a hand to still any protests "while he's doing that I want the three of you to get you're stuff together to go and capture Cole… Aramis can join you once he's done here. I'll stay here and make sure this little one rests" he finished with a teasing wink at the yawing girl.

"You'll be careful I trust" Christelle interceded, choosing to ignore the captains comment, her tone clearly trying to be strong and imposing but they could all hear the fear and worry underlining it. "Cole wont be alone and if any of you get hurt in this attempt to 'avenge' me I wont forgive you okay?"

* * *

They found the tavern with relative ease and without it taking them too long – they had decided against taking their horses as not only would they attract attention but also they would be able to maneuver the busy Parisian streets on foot.

The four men had come to a silent agreement that Porthos would deal with Cole while the rest of them took care of any of his men whilst watching Porthos's back.

As it happened Cole was apparently expecting them, no doubt realizing that if Christelle managed to escape that she would eventually send the authorities after him. Because of this the musketeers were outnumbered 3-1, but never ones to shy away from a challenge the men leapt into battle with Porthos making a beeline for Cole, who seemed surprised at the intensity of the anger that burned in the musketeer's eyes before smirking and drawing his weapon to face the musketeer head on.

* * *

D'Artangan cursed the luck that saw him facing a group of armed men for the second time in almost as many months, however this time he wasn't alone and the odds were much more achievable. Plus he remembered the wounds inflicted on his dear friend and that proved more than enough incentive to take out these men.

He was honestly impressed with his performance and wished Athos wasn't so busy fighting his own battles and could have seen him when he pulled off a combination that the man had been attempting to drill into him for the past couple of weeks with limited success.

He'd been able to take out two of his three men with relative ease but the third was a slippery fellow who had managed to almost get under his guard several times. Unfortunately for the Gascon he let his cockiness get the best of him for a split second which was all the time the man needed to slam the hilt of his sword against the boy's cheek, sending him careering to the floor. What the man hadn't anticipated however was the fact that D'Artangan had been taught by Porthos – arguably the best hand-to-hand fighter in the regiment, exactly how to fall without injuring yourself and the importance of getting back up as quickly as possible, so it took only a fraction of a second for the Gascon to regain his footing and slashing out his sword – catching the man in the throat, killing him instantly.

Risking a second to check the damage done to his jaw before assessing the rest of the fight D'Artangan relaxed when he felt nothing broken, simply badly bruised. Turning his attention back to the fights he felt his blood go cold…

* * *

Athos barely contained his smirk as he looked at the trio that surrounded him, he was not one to actively seek out violence but he had been stuck with easy missions at the garrison lately and as such had not had the chance to feel the rush of battle in some time. As such the musketeer was itching for a full on battle and the men before him tried to deliver but their skill level could not hold a candle to his own or to his brothers so the man settled for playing with them a while – letting them collect small injuries and gradually lose hope of winning before he took them out.

He was just about to go and check on D'Artangan as he'd seen the boy take a hit earlier on before a shout froze him solid…

* * *

Aramis was desperately trying to keep an eye on Porthos as the musketeer took on Cole, who clearly was the most skilled out of all the opponents but to his annoyance the men surrounding him would not let his focus deviate for long so he sent up a silent prayer to protect his brother before taking care of his men.

The men clearly had no sense of honor and the reminded the sharpshooter of Red Guards with how underhanded their tactics were. Alas, for the men Aramis was well versed in the art of defeating dishonorable men and had experience in combatting the underhanded tactics as Porthos always at some point resorted to them when they trained – not for lack of honor however.

As such it didn't take the medic long to overpower and defeat his men, deciding to leave at least one of them alive to face questioning and proper justice.

It was at this point a shout pierced the air – stopping his heart in fear…

* * *

Porthos instantly realized that Cole had some impressive skill with a blade as the pair locked blades he recognized the signs of having been properly taught – no doubt from his youth as a nobleman's first born son.

Cole also was very quick on his feet – his smaller build making it easier for the man to dodge Porthos's attacks. But the man also had the over confidence that could only come from being the best in his selective circle. This over confidence worked massively in Porthos's favour, as he was able to land hits that to an unfocused eye did no damage but in reality served to numb the opponents sword arm.

Cole had been so focused on the musketeer's apparent lack of skill that he didn't notice the gradual numbing sensation until he was no longer able to hold his sword, leaving him defenseless against the enraged musketeer.

"You'll pay for what you did to Chris" Porthos growled as he pointed his sword at the scumbag in front of him.

"Figured the only way that whore was still alive was that she had seduced someone like you" Cole spat "Should've just killed her alongside good old mum and pop's when she was a kid… would 'ave saved myself a world of trouble… on the plus side she'll never be free of me now" he smirked before patting his shoulder – the same one where he had branded Christelle.

At that, Porthos finally snapped as he dropped his sword and launched himself at the slightly startled man, choosing to use his famed strength to teach the scumbag a lesson.

After a couple of minutes of relentless punching Cole's face was completely busted up.

"It is only so Christelle can see justice done to you that I don't kill you right here" Porthos sneered as he tied a piece of rope securely around Cole's hands, ignoring the glare sent his way by the man.

"PORTHOS!" came a panicked shout, followed quickly by a pained grunt and the sound of a body hitting the floor as he span and saw Cole laying, dead on the floor with a dagger sticking out of his neck and the musketeer's discarded sword grasped between his bound hands.

"Are you alright?" D'Artangan fussed as he ran up to the man

"Thanks to you whelp" Porthos reassured, ruffling the Gascon's hair fondly "that was one hell of a throw"

"Clearly his training has paid off" Aramis complimented, smiling fondly as he saw the boy beam at the praise.

"We should get back" Athos commented as he arrived by his brother's side, doing a quick visual check for injuries "Treville and Christelle will be anxious for news"

At the mention of Christelle's name D'Artangan's face immediately lost it's smile as he thought of how he was going to have to break it to her that he killed her brother.

* * *

Treville was extremely relieved when his men returned with no more injuries than a couple of bruises and was quick to follow them to the infirmary to let Christelle know the outcome.

The group was thrilled to see the girl awake and alert when they entered and Aramis made sure to check over her injuries – much to her annoyance, before they sat beside her bed to explain what happened with her brother.

"Can I talk to D'Artangan alone for a minute?" Christelle asked quietly once they had finished retelling the events of the past few hours.

At this request the Gascon paled slightly, fearing the worst when his brothers and Captain began to leave the room.

"I'm really really sorry Chris" D'Artangan began to babble as soon as they were alone "I didn't mean to kill him but when he launched at Porthos…"

His rambling was stilled by the sound of soft giggles from the woman, which only served to confuse him further before the girl took pity on him and explained "D'Art I'm not holding it against you okay"

"But…"

"No buts D'Artangan" she chided fondly, a sad expression forming "I lost Cole years ago… in fact I'm not sure the good memories I have of him are even the of the real Cole. But thanks to you I did not lose the man I love… I can only thank you for that."

D'Artangan sat, stunned at her words, completely unable to muster any form of response

"So please don't blame yourself okay?" she coaxed gently before placing a hand on his arm and giving it a soft squeeze.

* * *

"Everything okay in here?" Aramis asked tentatively as he, Porthos, Athos and Treville reentered the room minutes later.

"Let's see" Christelle smiled "Cole's gone, none of you are hurt and I'm on the mend… I'd say everything's definitely okay"

"I'll drink to that" Treville joked as he pulled out a bottle of wine. The group passing the time sharing good wine and enjoying good company.


	24. Epilogue

**Hello again loyal readers**

**Final chapter :( **

**This was by far the most fun to write and i hope you like it - after everything i put the poor group through i felt they deserved a happy ending**

**Thank you so very very much to everyone who's supported me throughout this story you all totally rock!**

**Enjoy**

**xxx**

* * *

**Epilogue**

**2 Years Later**

As Porthos lay in bed he still couldn't believe his luck that he had been able to find someone who completed him and made him as happy as the woman asleep beside him did.

He still remembered the day Christelle had made him the happiest man alive by agreeing to marry him. He had tried to do it all romantic like – following Aramis's suggestions to get her flowers, take her somewhere special etc. Unfortunately he'd been so nervous that he'd completely messed up asking her but instead of being put off by it Christelle had burst into giggles before beaming him a smile and giving him one of the most passionate kisses he'd ever received in reply.

The ceremony had been a small affair with neither one of them having much in the way of family or close friends so it was limited to his brothers (of course), Flea – who had berated the woman for not coming to her when she had first returned to Paris and Constance.

Christelle looked absolutely stunning in a simply elegant white gown, with ruffled sleeves, decorated with delicate embroidery and beads. Constance had lent her the shoes she had worn for her own wedding for her 'something borrowed' Aramis had given her a blue ribbon to tie her hair with for her 'something blue' and D'Artangan and Athos had split the cost of the veil for her 'something new', while round her neck hung the last relic of her noble past – her mother's necklace that had been gifted to her for her eighth birthday for her 'something old'

Christelle had asked Treville to be the one to give her away as she had no living family and cared greatly for the man. The Captain had been honored by her request and was more than willing to comply.

"You're staring," mumbled a voice, pulling him from his memories

"Can you blame me?" he flirted in reply, running a hand down her back as he spoke.

"You ready for today?" she asked, propping herself up on one elbow as she looked into the loving eyes of her husband.

"Bit nervous at how they're going to take it but otherwise I'm ready" he replied with a grin, leaning down to kiss his wife.

* * *

"Morning" the coupled called as they entered the Garrison, pleased to see that all the people they wanted to talk to were together.

"What's going on?" D'Artangan curiously asked seeing the soppy grins that they were both wearing

"We have something we need to tell you" Christelle replied, the grin growing as she spoke.

"No…" Aramis breathed, looking between the couple with growing excitement "Really?"

"Yeah" Christelle laughed as Aramis practically tackled her into a hug, squealing as he did so.

"Okay what am I missing?" D'Artangan asked sounding thoroughly lost as he looked between Athos and Treville for explanation.

Once she had pried herself free from the clingy arms of the Spaniard – who quickly moved on to Porthos, she turned her beaming smile to the rest of the men, a hand moving to rest on her slightly swollen stomach.

"We're having a baby"

* * *

**THE END **

**XXXX**


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